The 99th Platoon: Operation Maroon
by DbKiT
Summary: Civil War has broken out over Windy. And in its grip the innocent always suffer the most. Please R
1. Prologue

( A/N: This story is a collective effort between a talented group of writers at and myself. I felt this mission was special enough to be edited and re-written into a more reader friendly form for fan fiction. This is a prologue of sorts before the introduction chapter, to help readers understand the inner peril growing inside Windy.)

Windy, one of the most cosmopolitan cities in it's current state. 43 of the population are grey squirrels, 36 red, 10 are weasels, 9 are other, 2 are panthers.

Jan 5, 2003  
A group of grey squirrel are dragging a red squirrel, William S. Redport, behind an alley. They beat him and take his wallet.

Jan 6, 2003  
Redport reports to the police. They half-heartedly write down a few notes, and tell him that they will notify Allport upon their arrest. The officer at the time was also a grey squirrel.

Jan 8, 2003  
The same group of grey squirrels gained knowledge that Redport went to the cops. They go to his home and proceed to smash the windows, egg his house, and spray paint over it.

The majority of the public will not know of these above events.

Feb 15, 2003.  
The criminals have not been caught. They had continued to assault and terrorize Redport. All Redport has and could do was report, in vain, to the police. In the middle of the afternoon, Redport picks up a semi-automatic rifle and walks down Main Street of Windy, opening fire on all grey squirrels that he sees. 19 are killed, 6 are injured. Redport is arrested.

March 9, 2003.  
Court finds Redport guilty on 19 charges of murder, and 6 charges of assault causing serious bodily harm, to be served consecutively. Defense claims a mistrial. All jury members were grey squirrels. Defense appeals to the Supreme Court of Windy.

April 11, 2003.  
Supreme Court panel of Judges consists of 4 red squirrels, 3 grey squirrels, and 2 weasels. Redport found not guilty by reason of insanity. Prosecution appeals to the King of Windy.

April 30, 2003.  
The King's assembly declares Conker's decision. Supreme Court's decision is upheld. Redport is institutionalized.

December 19, 2003.  
Video footage of two grey squirrel officers severely beating a red squirrel. Investigation reveals the the red squirrel had done nothing wrong.

December 21, 2003.  
Protests of racial profiling and police corruption. Majority of protesters are Red Squirrels, but some grey Squirrels join.

Feb 15, 2004.  
One year anniversary of the tragic day. A 16 year old female grey squirrel is found raped and murdered by the river. A red squirrel is convicted based on loose evidence. He is beaten to death in prison.

Feb 29, 2004.  
Red Squirrel History Museum is burned to the ground. The perpetrators are unknown. No effort is made to find out who they are, evidenced by lack of police activity and newspaper reports of the incident.

March 3, 2004.  
Massive rally in front of police station. One grey officer fires one shot from his gun (he would later claim self-defense), killing a red squirrel. Major uproar leads to chaos. 2 grey officers are beaten to death, 3 others severely injured. 2 other red squirrels have been shot dead.

March 5, 2004.  
The city of Windy is in complete segregation. Businesses refuse to service those of the opposite race (panthers, weasels, and other are exceptions), neighbors become enemies, schools throw students out for no real reason, public institutions deny service to certain individuals.

April 1, 2004.  
A band of grey squirrels march in front of Conker's Palace, declaring "tyranny in the monarch". It escalates to violence; bottles smashed against the walls, the gates are almost knocked down. Sargent in charge of Conker's safety orders the termination of the threat. All protesters are killed.

Unknown to the public, the Sargent is later dismissed and imprisoned by Conker himself.  
-------  
Present day: June, 2005.

After a year of civil war, Windy has been partially decimated, but most of it is still in tact.  
The 99th Platoon have been called in. They're not miracle workers, but Windy needs all the help it can get. A guerrilla group of grey squirrels have held a secondary school hostage, threatening to detonate bombs to destroy the school if their demands are not met: the resignation of Conker and the agreement to install a political party of grey squirrels into power.


	2. Chapter 1

(A/N: Roughly an Introduction chapter. Things will speed up in chapter 2!)

Summer, 2005

The conflict has steadily evolved into civil war. The Grey squirrels are now revolting against Conker. The Government of Windy has lost its power - due to the citizen non-compliance and disintegration within its own house. Violence has escalated with the use of bombs and heavy firearms.

Recently investigation has found a disturbing piece of information...

-----  
Rico and Oreos entered the conference room. As the double doors slid shut behind them, Conker motioned for them to take a seat. The King was seated one end of the table with Rodent to his right, and other bigwigs sat on either side.

Rico took his seat opposite Conker, and Oreos remained standing behind him.

Ignoring formalities, Conker got right down to business, "As you well know we have a crisis that is growing out of our hands."

Sarge frowned, "So you're placing it into mine?"

"No, we are asking for your help."

"Well your majesty, you can never go wrong with us, the 99th platoon."

The King nodded, "The Head of Security will brief you."

Rodent took his cue and stood from his seat. "ahem The 99th platoon. You've never failed an assignment as of yet, so we both know your company will be the best for this job."  
Sarge tried to understand where this was leading but was drawing blanks. "To end this battle between the two races? How do you expect us to do that?"  
Rodent, who felt Sarge for some reason needed to be reminded of a few principles, decided to take the long winded approach of explanation. "While the 99th platoon currently hosts the best men in the field, its conventions are just like any other. All Sergeants are required to pledge an oath and swear duty towards the crown. By joining the platoon each member recognizes his responsibility of maintaining peace and upholding justice..."

Oreos chuckled.

Rodent shot the agent a look and continued " ... with unwavering loyalty to Windy, its citizens and King. However, we are sorry to report that Platoon 97 has failed its duty. You have heard the rumors?" The head of security suddenly didn't sound brisk and job ready. But tired and foreboding.

Sarge felt tense as he leaned forward in his chair,some questions were about to be answered. "Yes. Platoon 97 has been dismissed. I didn't hear why though."

"Two weeks ago, twenty-seven red squirrels were killed execution style and dumped into a ditch near the outskirts of Windy. The media reports that it was the work of a terrorist grey squirrel group. Likewise, what I'm going to tell you cannot be known to anyone else."

Rodent looked steadily at Sarge.

" The 97th platoon was responsible. There was no command given for this action, obviously. They went into those red squirrels' home, pulled them out of their beds, lined them against the wall and shot them. The bullets recovered from the victims are those issued to Platoon personnel. We have been unable to find the whereabouts of the 97th, but we know they are responsible for the recent bombings and massacres."

For what felt like a long time a dark almost eerie silence hung over the room as these words were digested through everyone's ears. Even the big wigs, who had all their money to make them happy, looked discontent. Maybe even sad. It was hard for Rodent to say these words and he looked worse for it. The quiet finally disintegrated when Sarge spoke.

"And if we find them..."

Life seemed to seep its way back into Rodent's eyes "It won't solve this crisis immediately, but it will soften it. We need you to eliminate this threat... By any means necessary. Get your men armed - the 97th platoon composes of fifteen members, each with the same training, skills, and intelligence you and your men have. They are all grey squirrels."

Exactly one hour passed after that meeting. Oreos was first to finish gathering up arms. His trusty assault Rifle, K7, a shotgun strapped behind him, grenades along his belt and two pistols, one at his ankle and the other concealed beneath his vest.

He was waiting right outside on the steps of Conker's castle staring down at Windy. There were barricades and barbed wire surrounding the castle, but other than that, you couldn't tell there was a civil war going on. The sky was still an afternoon blue with some clouds, and a breeze passed by, raising the fur on Oreos' tail as it blew with the wind.

Oreos heard Sarge coming down the castle steps but did not turn to face him. "Do we have any leads?"

Sarge stopped two stairs below him, his shoulders were drooping slightly. "Yes. Right now a group of squirrels are holding a school under siege. They're demanding the release of certain individuals from prison. They have around 400 kids in their filthy paws."  
Oreos tilted his head to the side and closed his eyes with an irritable groan, "Well that's troublesome."

" I just can't believe how low they've gone."

Oreos straightened and opened his eyes, interested. "You knew them...? Platoon 97"

The Sergent didn't answer right away. "Maybe." Sarge then slipped on his shades, and walked on ahead.

- - -

It was known as the barracks.  
Technically it was, and it still pertained to the 99th platoon. There were even beds there if any tooner needed an immediate place to stay.

It was in the army complex, somewhat in the outskirts of town. From a time when the 99th platoon still was part of the Windian army...technically they still were but only in paper. In life, they became...somewhat their own thing.

It was also here that Mon stored his weapons and gears.  
M16 automatic assault Rifle. Mon cleaned and assembled it. A good enough weapon for him.

Medical gears. As much as you can stuff in your bag to take to a battle zone.

Side arm. 9mm Beretta. Handy.

Acid Shots. Just what the doctor ordered.

And finally...good old Shrapnel.

His mental checklist complete, he took one look around the room he was in, walls lined with guns, ammo, explosives, all sorts and manners of death.

His eyes rested on the doorway, and on the newcomer.

"Hey Sabine!" he welcomed.

She tentatively entered the armory and waved back.

"Hello..uhm..Sarge said we should get suited up. I hear this is the place. I do not... really own that many guns.."

"You hear right. What will you be taking?"

She looked around. Miles and miles of things that go boom, bang or pop.

'I am... not sure..what should I get?" She said with shifting eyes and nervous twitch.  
Mon noted this.

"Well, until we find out if you specialize in anything, this here M16-A1 rifle is plenty good for starters' he said, taking another one from the wall  
'You get some clips on the ammo box behind you. Yeah, the one marked M16A1. Good rifle, more or less 700 rounds per minute, gas operated, not too heavy and an effective range of about 450 meters. Semi automatic and automatic modes. I'd put it to semi, auto just wastes those bullets too fast. Just try not to get it dirty or wet. It tends to jam easier then some guns.'

"O..okay" Sabine said, getting comfortable with her new machine.

"You'll need a sidearm. Here, Desert Eagle. From Israel with love. Nice solid .50AE bullets. Should do you good."

"Alright" she said, picking one out.

"I'd take two grenades if I were you. Standard package. They're in the box over there in the corner. Pull the pin, count like...one or two seconds and then chuck that baby like nobody's business. Once you remove the pin, that grenade is nobody's friend, aight?"

"Got it."

Mon couldn't help but grin, "Next step: Lighten up."

"W-what?" Sabine faltered, looking up from the box of boomies.

"Chill. you're nervous. First mission, right?"

"Yes..."

" Trust me, you'll do well. I was nervous on my first go."

"I do not think I can handle it. I mean, I have heard stories...word gets around of what the Platoon is capable of, so-"

" 'Hey' " He muttered, gentle, yet forceful. She stop talking and listened. "You'll get there. This is a hostage mission...it..aaah...should...be...uhm..simple enough.."  
He couldn't do it. He couldn't say that with a straight face. He turned away and coughed.

"I know what you mean.." she said.

They all did. Hot diggedy.  
Race was never...too much of a problem in the platoon. Sarge ran a clean ship, in every sense of the word. Mon's mind flickered to the memory of when a member, ( heaven forbid: it was only a stupid, bad joke!) made the mistake of calling Dark..well..darkie. After the blowing storm died down, the wrath of Dark Flame was chicken compared to Sarges temper.  
Yet...they all felt it. The tension. The news stories. this thing just kept building up. Now the Greys wanted the Reds dead. And the feeling was mutual.  
Mon never held anything against reds.  
This was home territory. It's easy to kill a Tedi. They were made to destroy, do what you want to them. . But now...

"You just get ready, Sabine. Hitch up your stuff. And let's go, because the proverbial fecal matter is about to impact the spinning, wind generating implement. Right-o?"

"Right-o, sir" she said and saluted.

Mon hesitated. "Uhm...well, you'll learn this in time, but, there aren't many formalities. Well...at least drop the sir."

"Yes s.."  
" Mon will do."  
" Yes Mon"

"Now saddle up, and remember: You wouldn't be here if Sarge wouldn't let you. He's got an eye for people who can hack it in this Platoon."

He shut the lights. Both made their way out and onto one of the hardest missions in their lives.

- - -  
Red Storm nodded to the passing platooners as he stood with crossed arms, his head slightly lowered as he was deep in thought. He wasn't quite sure what he was feeling, but it was unusual to him. Ever since these problems of the greys and reds arose, Storm just seemed to lose himself in thought quite frequently. Shaking his head, he chose to just ignore the feeling.

"Bah..can't let it get to me...more important issues at hand."

Storm already had his weapon of choice, the specialized combat staff that he always used. The flick of the wrist and six deadly blades, three at each end popped out of the slits. Along with that, he also was carrying his custom sidearm, which was usually all he ever carried. However, Storm decided to select a few more pieces. A couple daggers, one for his belt, the other for his boot, and two hand grenades, along with one flash bang should the occasion call for it. Picking up one last gun, an M-16 Assault rifle, Storm loaded it up and strapped it to his back alongside his staff.  
Stepping outside of the armory, Red Storm proceeded to where the other ready members were waiting.

CG was getting his weapons ready at his house. He took his katana, which he had to save from the evil clutches of his niece that wanted to put some butterfly stickers in the hilt. As for firearms, he had his M4A1 (the one he stole a long time ago from a swat team or something) and his newly acquired .45 Colt Gold cup commander. As he was preparing to set off, his wife could not help but notice.

"You're leaving?" asked Meribeth

"Yes..."

"The racial thing right? It's weird that they called you guys this late"

"It's because the school thing"

"Oh...you're going to kill someone? They're one of us you know"

"Don't be like that...right now, they're as evil as tediz or komiz so..."

"Yeah you're right. Take care"

"Of course. I'll call you when I'm near so you can cook me something" said CG grinning

"Ha!...is that a joke?" said Meribeth "...No I'm the one joking" She corrected after seeing the shocked face of her husband "I'll make you something"

"I hope. Love you very much...Cya"

With that, CG left for the barracks to get some ammo and reunite with the other guys.

- - -

Chael joined the others at the barracks. He had never been here yet remembered it perfectly. He entered the weapons storage area and approached a locker. Placing his left thumb on a scanner, he removed his coat as the locker opened. Those that looked noticed that Chael's right arm, from above the elbow down, was mechanical. He first removed a secondary power cell from the arm, placing it into a charger that replenished it instantly. After replacing the cell he packed the next items, best described as two bandoleers of grenades modified in various ways. He put his jacket back on before continuing to his sidearm. He placed a holster on his left thigh which held an Intar handgun, a non-lethal energy based weapon. He then began stuffing objects into his coat pockets. He put on a pair of modified sunglasses before pulling out his final item. With his mechanical arm and much greater musculature than an average Chael, he slung onto his shoulder a four and a half foot long, 800 pound laser cannon.

The locker shut and he stepped outside to join the others. When he got there he pulled a cigar and lighter from one of his coat's inner pockets, lighting it. He wasn't sure why he was here but his interim bosses said his abilities were necessary.

- - -

The fox was preparing her battle weapons, swinging her blade carefully, but dangerously as she practiced. She was not tired like the rest of them. In fact, Serena had felt restless.

Serena meditated to herself. "This 97th Platoon...what was their past about, I wonder?"

From the corner of her eye Serena noticed that Deja had over heard, and glared.

Deja walk past Serena's small training area while speaking,"Yeah, I know how that is, but listen, you keep telling yourself that and keep staying up all night all the time, you ain't going to get anywhere."

The fox fumed, "I don't need your advice!"

Deja shrugged and left as the female vixen put her sword up. Serena sighed, then looked up.

"Spirits...please guide us safely into battle."

- - -

Pyst entered the barracks, cigar clenched between his teeth. He greeted the other 'tooners with a hearty "wassup", and hefted a heavy duffel bag onto one of the tables. He unzipped the bag and pulled out his trusty mini-gun. He quickly checked it over and deemed it combat ready. Pyst wasn't too big on using his gun on other squirrels, let alone Windy citizens, red or grey. At the same time, he wasn't too fond of the red squirrels. Thousands of grey squirrels busted their asses in the Great War while the reds just stayed home barely putting anything into the war effort. Pyst respected the hell out of the red squirrels that did fight. Especially Conker. Hell, that SOB pretty much won the war for them AND killed the Panther King, which was more than ten thousand red squirrels would do in a life time. Sure, the reds were cowards, but that didn't justify a genocide. And now he was probably going to have to kill his own kind, the greys. But in the end, none of that meant jack all to Pyst. He was a soldier, a dog of the government, a hell hound for hire, and he'd kill anyone and everyone they told him too. Dog of war for life, Pyst thought and did a mental _Hoo-rah!_.

"Wow!" Carrie cheered, "This place is awesome!!!"  
She immediately bolted for the fire arms and started sorting through them, like a kid in a candy store. Or a junkie in a crack shop...

"You brought Carrie?" Mon asked.

"Yea," Pyst shrugged, "Why not, she might as well be a junior member of the platoon. And besides, I can't say no to those damn "Bambi" eyes!"

Carrie clapped excitedly when she found her personal favorite weapon, the P-90. She then went after the sniper rifles.  
Pyst went to the pistol rack and grabbed a Colt Anaconda .44 magnum. He popped the cylinder, gave it a spin, and snapped it back into place.

"You going with a .44?" Mon observed, "I thought you went with the MagSec4?"

"I did," Pyst said, "But I test fired one of these bad boys at the firing range the other day and OH MY GOD!!! This is a sexy gun!"

"Uh-huh." Mon said.

"No really man! The power, the accuracy, the whole feel of the thing! And every time I fired the damn thing, it was like I was having a damn orgasm!"

"Ok," Mon said, walking away, "That's too much information..."

"No really man!" Pyst said, "Just feeling this cannon jerking in my hand, I practically blew my load every shot!!!"

"No really Pyst," Mon snapped, "TO... MUCH... INFORMATION!..."

Pyst shrugged, and holstered the .44. He grabbed a healthy supply of speed loaders and .44 rounds. He finally spotted his daughter meddling around behind his back.

"Carrie!" Pyst snapped, "Put the rocket launchers back! They're too big for you!"

"Aww..." Carrie pouted.

The weather smelt of Autumn. Outside, the fortress-like building of cement and steel imposing upon him, Sarge starred at the grey clouds roll low and menacingly across a scorched sky. His wrinkled eyes were barely visible behind mirrored Aviator sunglasses, perched comfortably on the edge of his muzzle. He breathed, slowly and in control.  
The first sign of rain was the stillness in the air. The Heavens were growing heavier, denser and darker. Puffing on a cigarette Sarge couldn't help but think that it mirrored his mood. Tossing the spent butt aside, his chested heaved as he began coughing.

"S'up Boss?" CG asked tentatively, poking his head outside. Sarge's coughing fit hadn't ended. He waved his hand as if to say: 'I'm fine.' CG took the hint, and waited patiently for Sarge to spit. His voice box rumbled, before he turned to face CG - at all times his eyes concealed - and smile grimly.

"Hey Kenny...How's the misses?" Sarge's tone of voice was genuine, and CG appreciated the fact.  
"Fine, just fine... Worried - but fine." He tried to smile casually, but it ended up as a lazy smirk.  
"How does she deal with it?"  
"What? No - no, she just... Eh." He kicked at Sarge's fallen cig. "You know."  
"I know Ken. This whole situation smells of it. Those are our people out there..."  
At this CG paused, momentarily perplexed.  
"What do you mean, sir?"  
" CG, don't call me that." He shrugged his shoulders, as if trying to shake off something nasty that had landed on his shoulder. "Makes me feel all righteous and such."  
"Hey - you've earned the respect." CG noted that Sarge had deftly changed the subject, and decided not to pursue the issue any longer. It started to rain, drop by drop, and little by little the tiny slants of rain began running down through Sarge's short and silver-streaked hair onto his forehead and off his chin.

To any casual observer they may have noted how he looked amazingly like a wood carving. His features had grown sharp through both time and physical abuse, and his age gave his face definition, like someone had taken a knife to an Ancient Greek statue, and turned it into the prow of a 17th Century warship. Still, Sarge's swashbuckling days weren't over, and he wasn't going to let something as small as domestic dispute end what had, admittedly, been a highly prolific career.  
Maybe he just needed to rearrange his feng-shui. At this thought Sarge chuckled, staring back at CG, miserable and wet.  
"You wanna go inside?" he asked. CG nodded.  
"Sir - damn straight, sir."  
Sarge cracked a smile.  
"Get your ass down below. I'll be in there in a minute." He reached into the lining of his jacket and pulled out a crumpled (and now wet) packet of cigarettes.  
"You should lighten up on the smokes Sarge. The lady of the house has made me quit, and I'm tellin' you - I'm better off for it."  
"CG - you really think that a couple of extra cigs 'll take me out? Cause, I sure as hell hope they do."

Again, twice in an hour, Sarge had left CG feeling strangely dubious as to what his C.O. was trying to say. In the back of his mind he told himself that Sarge was probably just getting a little senile and (or) sentimental in his old...er age.  
"Right... I'll come get you when we're all saddled up and ready to go."  
"You do that son. You do just that."  
Once again alone, Sarge found comfort in the reality of the rain spattering against his face, and the stillness that came with accepting it.  
- -

Sarge was looking skyward towards the rain when he heard a slight thud of a footstep in the distance. The sound was barely audible to the middle-aged commander but he knew something was up. his regular platoon members showed up in the most fashionable way possible. No...This wasn't a regular member Sarge thought to himself.  
As the sound of footsteps drew nearer a figure could now be made out in the darkness that was the rainy night. The shadowed outline of a squirrel was approaching.

"Who's there?" Sarge called out.

No answer...

The figure drew even closer now. Sarge was almost able to make out who it was when the figure stopped just out of range for the old mans eyes.

"By God..." The Sargent whispered to himself. No It couldn't be who he thought it was. That squirrel had left along time ago. Never planning on returning. He had to make sure.

"I said, who...is...there" Sarge said one more time.

No answer.

"Who the are you?"

The figure took a step closer and Sarge could tell who it was finally. Twisted. The old walked towards Sarge and gave a sheepish grin.

"An old friend" he muttered.

- - -

Images of riots within the formerly comforting confines of the city of Windy flashed upon the screen of a rather small, outdated TV set. The panicked speech of a frantic reporter rang out loudly from the speakers of the set, echoing off of the walls of the desolate, dark room. Blackness blanketed everything not within five feet of the front of the television; something could have been hiding in any nook, any cranny. Anything. A beast, a monster. A man. But there was no one, and there would not be anyone for quite some time. The owner of the neglected, run-down apartment was on important business - business that effected worldwide affairs. Business that put his life in jeopardy. Business that had gotten him shot, stabbed, burned, battered, and broken. Business that he always returned to, despite his injures, despite his age. A soldier through-and-through, he would be there whenever his job called upon him. But was it truly for himself? Was it truly for the world? The world had never truly been kind or appealing to him at all. In fact, he despised the world. He despised the vast majority of the earth's populace. He fought not for the people; he was not a hero. He fought for his comrades - for those he had fought alongside for so many years. He fought to make sure that if anyone was to die, if anyone was to be injured, it was him.

The rain beat down on the muddy landscape surrounding the barracks; the sky had become even more congested with clouds, and the result was a much harder rainfall than before. Such had seemingly no effect on the old war veteran who leaned upon the concrete base of the barracks, however, nor the limp cigarette that hung from his lips. His eyes stared off into nothingness, and they slowly became small slits as something off in the distance caught his eye. A large, black figure was walking slowly towards the base. Such was a rather odd occurrence since normal people would be high-tailing it to find some sort of shelter from the downpour. But not this man. His walk was slow, but it was obvious that he had a purpose. And as he came closer, the older Sarge was able to peer through the rainfall to catch a glimpse of the figure's face. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth - grim, but a smile nonetheless. A bit of smoke arose from his mouth as he merely folded his arms across his broad chest, awaiting his feline comrade to close the gap between them.

Clad in all black (as usual), Dark made a few last strides before he found himself face-to-face with his leader. His brother. His friend. His family. His stoic visage remained unchanged, but his violet irises conveyed a slight sense of happiness - very slight. The things that he had seen, the things he had done, the things that had been done un_to_ him, had dulled his senses. His emotions. But he was truly glad to see Sarge, truly glad to be back in the midst of his only true family. He hooked his thumbs underneath the combat vest that adorned his upper torso and held the vast majority of his weaponry. He felt slightly odd as the raindrops made contact with his shoulders, with his flesh. He was without the trench coat he had worn on so many missions, without the worn leather pants. Black military fatigues clothed his lower body, and each leg was tucked neatly into his combat boots. An M4A1 hung loosely around his neck, dangling on his right side. Easily accessible. A combat knife was sheathed upon his left shoulder, the hilt jutting downwards so that the twelve inch blade could be removed in a slashing motion, somewhat like the sword upon his back.

A mutual grunt of a greeting, followed by a moment of what would seem to be uncomfortable silence.

"I have a feeling I'm not going to particularly enjoy this mission," Remarked the panther. "We're not police; we're soldiers. In any case, we may as well get this started."

He opened the door to the barracks.

"After you."

- - -  
WWW trudged through the rain, looking down and deep in thought.

The recent racism had spurred him to reflect on his own situation. Ever since the second milk war, he had been jumped, ambushed, ganged up on, stolen from, beaten, shot and kicked out because he was a tediz. It had gotten worse again when Omega's Komiz invaded; then, he felt that only the platoon and Anthrax considered him a person who hated the Komiz as much as they did.

Now, he only sensed hate from veterans of the milk wars and residents of the war torn states. People who had seen their friends die, either instantly, through direct confrontation, or slowly, through disease among their ranks.

Now, he was just an odd sight, forgotten in a minute. The reds and greys were too busy fighting each other to care about a teddy bear trained in the deadly arts.

He stepped into the barracks, out of the rain. It somehow felt symbolic, coming in from the cold, like a forsaken animal returning to its master's home. He began to feel... accepted.

"I'm back." he said, "And I'm ready."

Some of the others turned. He nodded to them under his cowl. As he moved, his cloak shifted, displaying the sword and scabbard at his left hip.

Silently, he grabbed a covert ops rifle and silenced sidearm from the armory. He fit the sidearm to his right hip and threw the rifle on over his cloak and its bandoleer under the cloak.

He put frags and flash bangs on his belt, and satisfied, stood waiting for the others.

- - -

Andy pushed the door to the barracks open and poked his head in, dripping more water onto the already wet cement floor.

"All right, I'm not late!" He almost shouted as he walked inside, breaking the silence within the compound and startling nearly everyone who was in there. "Oops, sorry." he said, smiling. He looked around for a second and spotted Sarge puffing a bit of smoke in the corner. "Say, Sarge, can you tell me where my locker's at? I asked to have some of my stuff sent here in advance, but I've never been here before so I have no clue where it is."

"Good to see you, soldier." he replied, nodding. "I think your equipment's over there." He pointed towards it, and Andy walked over and began fiddling with the lock.

"Hey, about that 97th Platoon..." he started as he turned the dial to the first number. "There's fifteen of 'em, right?"

"Yep." Sarge answered him. "And they're just as well-trained as any of us, so don't take 'em lightly. Especially... well, since -- "

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Andy cut him off and chuckled a little as he continued turning the dial to the second number. "I'm gonna be, like, their first target, huh?" He turned the dial to the last number and paused for a moment. "This whole thing is pretty stupid if you ask me..." he continued, opening the locker door. "But, oh well."

From inside the locker he began to collect the various things he would need. A grenade launcher and G36C assault rifle went on straps that hung over his shoulders, and a silenced handgun went into a small holster that hung on his right side. Hanging on his left were his elbow blades, which he had brought personally, and extra shells for his launcher went into the various pockets of his sweater.  
"Well, I'm pretty much ready." he stated after briefly checking himself. "Just kinda soaked, I guess." He closed the locker door and sat down to wait for the rest of the platoon.

Locked and loaded.

The 99th platoon marched away from Conker's castle. Two Humvee each with mounted turrets was to be their transport. Andy seemed hesitant about using them, "Uhm, Sarge. Dontcha think these things sorta stand out?"  
Sarge's reply was cool. " Nothing out of the ordinary considering our situation. Besides, we want those bastards to come out and get us. They've captured a school. An elementary school with little kids. The game plan: Half of us will get the front, and the other half will penetrate the rear. Priority is given to the hostages. I don't know about you guys, but I am NOT taking any prisoners. "

Over the torrent of rain everyone could hear Pyst yell. " I CALL THE TURRET!" Trying not to flinch, Sabine pulled at the hem of her rain coat, looking wide at the Humvees and the soldiers surrounding her, this was going to be a very interesting ride.

Oreos got into the driver seat of one vehicle, DYM, Red Storm, CG, Chael, Serena, and Sabine got in the back. Red Storm manned the turret. Sarge was driving the other, with Pyst, Carrie, Twisted, Dark, WWW, and Andy as passengers. Pyst got the turret as requested.

Both Hummers drove off and reached an intersection. One turned left, and the other to the right. Both with the same destination.


	3. Chapter 2

Oreos went at a steady 40km per hour as he looked out at the streets. Some small time shops and bars had their windows smashed. Most of them were closed. A few squirrels were walking the streets.

No reds said 'hi' to the greys, no greys looked at the reds. No greys helped the old red squirrel cross the street. No reds helped the little grey squirrel who lost his mum. Sarge's voice came on the radio.

" I can see the school now. Where's your location?"

" Almost there, everything is on schedule--" Oreos was cut short.

An explosion interrupted Oreos. It was a small one just a few meters in front of the Hummer. The tires screeched as he stepped on the gas, veering right to dodge whatever it was.

" Sarge! We're getting ambushed here. We're on Main St. approaching Charles--" Another mini-bomb, rocket, whatever the hell it was went off, closer then the last one. Red Storm, who was the most exposed, tried his best to duck under cover.

" I can't see where's it coming from!" Red yelled from above.

At the same moment Mon yelled to Oreos from the back seat. "JUST GO!"

Oreos noticed that suddenly there wasn't anyone on the streets. No civilians around at all. His attention diverted, he let another bomb go off and this time it hit. Nobody had time to scream as the transport violently lurched forward. The front left tire blew off instantly in a screen of smoke and the Hummer flipped. It slid on the pavement for quite some distance until it ground to a halt against a street lamp.

Oreos was upside down but conscious, still strapped into his seat by the seat belt. "Who's still alive?!"

Serena called first. "We're ok!"

CG sounded almost astounded, " Looks like seat belts do save lives." or maybe sarcastic.

The 99ners piled out one by one, quickly finding cover from the assailants. Oreos kneeled beside the downed vehicle, able to grab the radio.

" Sarge, come in. Our transport is down. Unknown enemies. Do you read me?"

No answer.

Oreos threw the radio back in the wreck and joined his teammates. They found cover behind a building in an open parking lot. Oreos sneered. "Fucking hell, it's a trap."

" What about Sarge's group?" Chael asked.

" No answer. Dunno what happened to them."

Serena caught everyone's attention, her eyes staring at what was behind them. "Guys... we have a problem..."

It was a mob. Even worse, it was a mob of grey squirrels with AK47s and 4x4's. One masked grey squirrel led all of them, and he stood out pretty nicely. Oreos looked at him keenly and then realized something.  
"That's platoon gear. He's from the 97th."

He was the only one from what Oreos could tell. He held a megaphone to his face.

"WE ARE THE REVOLUTION! THE MONARCHY IS CORRUPT. THE ARMY IS CORRUPT. DEATH TO CONKER! DEATH TO ALL WHO OBEY CONKER!"

As the blaring speech echoed out into the rain chilled air the mob roared in approval.

Mon cursed. "What the hell happens now?"

Oreos stood, ever so slowly. "We run. Head to the school."

Only a few of the mob had any sort of firearm. Oreos counted two pistols and a stray AK47. The rest armed themselves with 4x4's.  
Soon Oreos realized to run would be to die. At least one of them would. It wouldn't take long for the few that had a gun of some sort to fire.

'THE REVOLUTION IS UPON US ALL!!" Declared the renegade with and ardent vigor. The crowd cheered, raising their weapons with a similar enthusiasm.  
It was that moment, while the men (and some women) of the mob had their guns high, that Oreos gave the command to fire.  
Like any leader, he went in first. Taking out the skull of the squirrel that held custody over the AK47. His brains spread on the faces of his comrades behind him.  
Strangely enough, Mon was the second to start shooting. He did not pick any target. In a break from his level of expertise, he closed his eyes and pulled the trigger repeatedly, feeling the heat of the cartridges as they leaped from the gun and onto his body. He could not watch. The duets of death were thereby joined by the rest of the squadron.  
The Crowd was in disbelief for a brief moment. Then they dispersed in several activities. Some got busy fleeing. Some got busy dieing. The 97th platoon soldier drew out a pistol and was promptly taken out. When Oreos gave the command to cease fire, he counted a total of six dead.

The silence broke in after that. They all drew breaths and saw the bodies.  
The breathed and saw them again .  
Yep, still there.  
Sabine retched to the side.

"Come on." ordered Oreos bluntly "this isn't a picture show. Hustle, the 97sers at the school probably heard the shots. We need to act fast. Mon, you look after Sabine."  
He got up and lead the squad, Mon using a mixture of verbal encouragement and physical help to get Sabine along. "Yeah yeah, kid, it was like that for most of us, the first time."

But all in his thoughts he just kept thinking.  
We've done it now. No going back. If we're damned we're damned.

The platoon went in silence. Partly out of listening for enemy movement. Partly out of reflection.

Chael was confused. When the order to fire had been given he watched his compatriots' actions. They shot with little hesitation. It's true it was a life and death situation, but surely they could have created a diversion and got themselves out safely. Weren't these victims the very people the Platoon risks their lives for to protect? Could it have been because of this racial hatred? Chael couldn't understand those sorts of feelings. True he had the memories of his forefather's childhood and the backlash his look received. But his entire existence had left him surrounded by himself all the time. Some of his brethren still did have this sort of hatred for one another, fighting because the felt superior due to what type of body they had or the abilities they possessed. Is this where his society was heading? He would have to converse with the mainframe when he returned.

Chael continued to move at a slow jog behind the others running ahead of him. Even with his augmented body, the weight he carried would wear him down quickly if he ran.

Slosh Slosh-Slosh Slosh-Slosh Slosh

Tiny little rivulets of rain dribbled down, to get tossed off tear-stained glass and into the muddy gutters the Hummer roared alongside. Sarge rolled the window down, leaning slightly towards it.  
"How are you holding up out there?" He called over the rain. Pyst clutched the turret between his fingers like a prized toy. The hood on the rain-cheater he had donned was lowered, and he was lavishing the feeling of rain stinging at his eyeballs.  
"I'm bored!" he called back. "Are we there yet?"  
Sarge quickly rolled the window back up, far too tired to go through THAT one. Besides, they were now approaching the schoolyard. He flicked on the radio.

"I can almost see the school now. Where's your location?"  
"Almost there" Oreos crackled back over storm and static, "Everything is on schedule"  
With that the feed died. Sarge flicked the transmission switch, but to no avail.  
"What's the problem?" Dark asked from the passenger seat.  
"Radio's out."  
"Is it ours' or theirs'?" Zeta called.

WWW coughed.  
"Those radios...aren't...err...top notch."  
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Sarge demanded, starting to let up on the gas, sliding into a more subtle gear.  
"It means that... Well, you know that funding I asked for the Tech. department?"  
"Yeah?"  
"I sort of lost the money."  
Carrie grabbed on to Twisted as the Humvee swerved out of control. Twisted raised an eyebrow, and Carrie sort of giggled. Sarge had spun round in his seat, driving blind.  
"You what?!"  
"It was the Stateside Lottery! $80 million was up for grabs! I figured that with more tickets I'd have better chances...and then I'd pay the money back when I won..."  
Sarge's broad hand was still scrambling for Triple W's throat.  
"I'll kill you! You son of a-"  
"Sarge!" Dark warned, yanking the wheel. Again the Humvee swerved, this time almost to a complete right angle, Sarge slammed on the brakes, gritting his teeth. The Hummer tipped... Those inside held their breath (Pyst on the other hand was swearing loudly and profusely - but that is another story) With a gratifying squelch the wheels landed back in the mud. Sarge popped the door open and jumped out.

"What the hell was that all about?!!" Pyst growled, frustrated, muddy and bruised. He followed Sarge's enraged gaze.  
The school building was visible behind them, grey and drab like most schools are. A gravel causeway lead to the main entrance, which subsequently, through a broad courtyard, reached the auditorium where the hostages were being held. Still, what made Sarge's blood boil, and forced the former occupants of the car to emerge in shock, was the sight of a six-foot plastic pole spiked into the ground, with a half-naked, shivering and terrified child tied to it roughly by its wrists. In its paws the child held a two-way radio. Zeta dashed forward, eager to help what was, albeit a muddy, but still, a Red in need. He froze as he felt a sniper bolt tear past his ear. The radio crackled, and a muddy voice was heard.

"We will not negotiate bull shit."

"Nobody move!" Sarge hissed.  
"I can't see the sniper Sarge! He could be anywhere..." Pyst's eyes darted across rooftops to no avail.  
"Consider this a token of our appreciation...and the gravity of the situation."  
There was a muffled murmur, and seconds later a second gunshot.  
Carrie, highly attuned and bio genetically engineered, heard it first and cried out in anguish.  
"No - Don't!"  
But it was far too late. The bolt was shot, and the Red child was terminated with the coolness and accuracy of a professional.

Dark's hands shook, never one to stand for injustice. He lunged forward, gripping the radio - squeezing the connection open.  
"There will be NO negotiation..." He threw the radio to the ground, crushing it under his boot. Zeta untied the tiny corpse, covering it respectfully with some lose tarp. He fought back tears.  
Sarge brushed his hair out of his eyes, facing the building. It was time - time to decided how they were going to deal with...killers, yes...but their own species. His throat felt parched. All eyes were on him.  
"Sarge?" Twisted asked.  
The pause felt as endless as the rain that spattered across their uniforms. At last Sarge spoke.  
"We take no prisoners..."  
Those words alone sent a shiver down all their spines.

---

Sabine's eyes darted everywhere. She was upset at herself for going sick but she couldn't help it. Knowing, in the back of her mind that she had a very strong chance of killing...well someone...but an innocent civilian?  
No wait. No...they were not innocent. They would have attacked if Oreos hadn't given the command to fire. But maybe there could have been a better way. And now the vision of dead bodies in the street were very stubborn about leaving her mind. On they went and the chipmunk kept looking up and down the streets...It all looked normal-no wait... completely deserted streets are not normal.

"Calm down Sabine calm down..."

The dead bodies in the road made another unwanted appearance in her mind.

"Stop thinking so hard!" she argued quietly with herself, hopefully nobody heard her. Praying that her stomach would behave, which it would most likely, she had already lost most of her breakfast that first time. The school was close now. When everything blew up, or whatever was going to happen took place, Sabine knew that she would have to have a clear head to think and follow orders. And try not to be scared.

Rage boiled inside of Dark as he smashed the radio with his heel, shattering the plastic covering and grinding all of the contents within into dust. He shot a glare in the general direction of the upper levels of the school building, hoping to catch even a small glimpse of reflection off of the sniper's scope. The blood of the small child that had just been executed profusely flowed down from the wound, gravity claiming it and bringing each droplet crashing downwards. The enraged feline turned on his heel and set his gaze upon his unit, his friends, his family. They had a mission to complete, and they knew that there would be casualties. They knew that there would be innocents caught in the crossfire. But they had not prepared to see an innocent child purposely executed, especially by someone who had not even the guts to do it face-to-face. Instead, he was cowering behind a high powered rifle. Death would greet him soon enough, however, as the Platoon moved quickly and quietly towards the main entrance.

The sniper had undoubtedly moved to another location, for fear that he would be discovered and end up like his latest victim. But his death would be much worse, much more gruesome. The execution of an innocent child warranted a slow, painful death - something that Dark knew quite a bit about. His expression was more stoic than usual, with not even a slight grin at the prospect of slaughtering these terrorists. He had shone no emotion other than pure anger at what had taken place, but even that had faded away. He was calm, collected - a well-oiled killing machine. His back against the dull gray wall, he poked his head around the corner. No sentries in sight. He slipped around the corner, sweeping the immediate vicinity with his M4A1. Nothing.

"Clear." Low, raspy. Guttural. Emotionless.

But then something caught his eye. A slight glare, a shimmer. He rolled onto his back and flipped up into the air, landing on his feet just outside of the courtyard when a bullet slammed harshly into the end of the gravel causeway. Bits and pieces of rock were launched into the air, leaving small nicks about Dark's jaw, but the small stinging pain did not bring out a change in him. Still, he remained calm. He remained collected. He knew where the sniper was, but there was currently nothing he could do about it. He intended to take that bastard to Hell and back, so a quick kill was out of the question. The panther gripped one of the large blue cylinders upon his vest, pulled the pin, and launched it up towards where he spotted the glare. Smoke quickly spewed from the grenade as it bounced off of the window pane and into the building.

"Let's move."

Deja was late for another mission yet again. Always moving from country to country, it was hard for the platooners to get a lock on her location, which is why she invested in a hand-held, GPS coordinator that kept a lock on the locations of the team and alerted her of any mission activity. Right now, it was beeping. Mission time.

Coordinates memorized, Deja mounted her black and sleek Suzuki Heyabusa thirteen kilos heavier than what she should have been. Strapped to her back was her M16 rifle with attached M203 40mm grenade launcher under-barrel, and holstered on her thighs were the M4 Carbine and Stiler 9mm. Inside her leather calf boots contained her family heirloom serrated hunting knife, and in the other boot her trusty garrotte.

Surprisingly close to the mission location, Deja reached Windy in under half an hour. Finding the 'tooners wasn't at all hard as Deja had presumed. A 99th Humvee was overturned, the windows blown out and the front left tire (or what was left of it) had caught fire. Deja revved the motorbike and headed straight. As she rounded the corner of a building, she caught sight of Serena. Actually thankful for the sight of the girl, Deja ditched the bike and jogged in her direction.

Staying out of sight from the platooners, Deja counted six of them : Oreos, Mon, Red Storm, CG, Chael, Serena, and someone she did not recognize. The mischievous squirrel that she was, Deja thought she'd make an entrance. Seeing as Serena was the last one in the line with her back facing Deja, Deja hooked her arm around Serena's neck and rested the Stiler on her temple.

"Don't even think about taking another step, or I'll blow her head off." Deja yelled out. Oreos and the rest of the group swung round and unanimously trained their gun, half-squeezing the triggers, on the captor and her hostage.  
"Put the gun down!"  
"Get your freakin' hands behind your head!"  
"Release the hostage now!"  
"Hands off, mother fucker,or it's my fucking bullet in your mother fucking head!"  
The shouts from the group made Deja chuckle. She threw her gun, safety on, at Oreos' feet. CG yanked her head back by her hair and it was Deja's turn to have a gun at her temple.  
"Woah, WOAH, guys relax." Deja raised empty palms. "It's just me. Thought I'd make an entrance." She laughed harder as she looked around at the faces of her comrades. Mouths hung open and eyes unbelieving. Mon was the first to speak.  
"Geez, Deja! We could've killed you! What the hell were you thinking?!"  
"Yeah, nice to see you too, Mon." Deja replied sarcastically. "You can release me now, CG."  
"Oh yeah…sorry, D." CG released her and she pulled him in for a hug and gave each of the familiars of the group a hug in turn.  
"It's great to see you all again. Finally, another mission, eh boys? What's it this time? Escort Conker through Windy? Take down a few Tedi helicopters?...What?" Oreos shifted his weight uncomfortably.  
"Actually, it's a civil war this time, Dej'. And terrorism from the 97th Platoon. We're on our way to rescue squirrel hostages from a local school. And to top things off we don't have communication with the other group."  
"And the problem is…" Deja wasn't catching on.  
"The problem is we have to kill our own kind."  
"THAT'S the problem? What are we, a bunch of sissies? If we have to kill our own kind to save our own kind, then what's the big deal?"  
The men (and woman) stared at the newcomer incredulously.  
"What?!"  
Sabine gave a shaky sigh and lowered her weapon. She leaned against a near by flag-pole to regain her breath. She still felt nervous. If anybody was going to mess things up for the others, it would be her. And to the chipmunk's guilt, she hadn't been alert for a surprise like that.

During the brief reunion Sabine just stood by the light-pole and looked off in the direction of the school. They were almost there. She did not hear much of the other's conversation, other than a loud exclamation and something about being sissies...or was it wussies...oh well, her attention was stayed on the school.

After a short while the conversation died down and Sabine's attention went back to her group.

"We should get going." said Oreos, when Deja finished talking about wussies and stuff.

They ran, hugging the buildings, and heading to the school in a diagonal way. The adjacent road to the school was lonely, it just lacked the bushes rolling and all the dust to look like a western movie of some sort.

"This is too quiet for my liking." said Mon

"Maybe that is because no one's here." said Sabine

"No...remember that these guys are as well trained as us." said Deja

"Yeah...maybe there are a bunch of guys here and we haven't noticed...you never know." cautioned CG

"Actually...there's only one." Chael stated. "But he's very well armed."

"What do you mean?"

"We should duck for cover"

WHISTLE

"Oh...rocket launcher...shit!"

Scrambling for cover,they separated and ducked behind various buildings. They all found a hiding spot just a moment before the rocket hit, throwing rock, dirt, and everything else in its path up into the air at high speed.

"Where is he?!" yelled Oreos

"In the yellow building!" yelled Chael back

The group had split into two. Mon, CG, Sabine and Red Storm were in the left side, and Chael, Serena, Deja and Oreos were on the other side. They were inside some buildings that lined across the street. The yellow building was at least five blocks away from their current position.

"Let's start running towards him until we're close enough to throw a grenade in!" yelled Mon to the radio.

"I can reach that place without being as near as you guys" said Chael. "But to be sure of getting it in, I need to be a block and a half away...at least"

"Ok" said Oreos. "Deja and CG will run over that side of the street and shoot at the bastard so that he won't get time to shoot at us, while Chael and I will do the same over this side"

"Yessir!" said CG

"Don't say that again..."

"I'm joking I'm joking"

They started to carry out the plan. As they were running towards the desired place for Chael to throw the grenade, the others were covering them, as they moved. The plan was carried out perfectly, until CG had to reload

"Out of ammo!" yelled CG as he kept running

"Stop and take cover" yelled Oreos

They were two blocks away from the building.

"Can you throw it from here?" asked Oreos

"I can, but the grenade I'm going to use will blow up in mid air" said Chael

"Done!" yelled CG

As soon as they blew their cover, their former comrade managed to fire a rocket towards them.

"SHIT!"

In an instant, CG got out his handgun and fired at the rocket. Maybe it was some kind of power that descended to CG's hand, or some hidden ability that he had, or just sheer luck, but the bullet hit the tip of the rocket, making it blow up before hitting the destination

"WHAT?!" Yelled the 97th platoon member "It can't be!"

Chael, the only one who had kept running managed to throw the grenade at the terrorist's window.

Boom

Variable grenades are expensive ordinance. You pay for just one as you pay for six single purpose grenades. If you're only carrying one or two grenades, though, it's worth the money to be able to throw the damage you want. Chael thumbed one to six before throwing it at the building.

Setting number six yields an explosively expanding cloud of nearly-fusing plasma, which will deposit far more heat on armor plating and building materials than they can compensate for.

As Chael took cover after throwing the grenade, the others followed suit. They could hear the damage being done by the grenade and came back out when it was done.

Four stories of the building were partially exposed, the concrete actually melted away. Inside all furnishings were destroyed and if the assailant had been close enough to the blast the body would have been as well.

Chael walked back a little and hoisted his cannon back on his shoulder. He turned to the others.

"Lets get back on the move."  
Sabine stared up at the building's insides. It all looked so ripped apart, destroyed and still, no one could have possibly survived.  
"Well I suppose that takes care of him." she said with her mouth slightly agape. She could imagine the body, or what was left of it, buried under thousands of pounds of concrete and debris. But her imagination didn't run with it anymore as the group got back on track. And much to everyone's relief, there were no more interruptions from there to the school.

AN: (And this concludes chapter 2. I apologize for its shortness but I couldn't find a better chapter break than this unless I went much further along. But as you can see things are already starting to blow up and only half of the group has made it to the school! Expect more destruction and excitement in chapter 3.)


	4. Chapter 3

The smoke within the open window where the sniper had formerly resided had long since cleared. The sniper was no longer anywhere to be seen. He had vacated his once advantageous position in search of prey that he had failed to slaughter. Objectives he had failed to complete. But while he was attempting to find his way down to the first floor, the Platooners were steadily advancing through the long corridors within the school. Hanging precariously by a staple or two on either side of the hallways were small pictures thrown together by the students; they ranged from scribbles that hosted a myriad of different colors to portraits of themselves and their heroes. A sentimental person would have stopped to look at the pictures, stopped to think about what was going on. About the horror that was taking place. But Dark was no sentimental person, and so he continued on, his rifle shouldered. He came to the end of the hallway he and his comrades were currently traversing and placed his back against the wall, listening intently for any sign of life around the corner. And there it was -- a sneeze. Stifled.

The panther whipped around the corner and brought his aim upwards. A staccato of gunfire rang out, echoing throughout the entire school. Bullets slammed into the stone wall just to the right of the feline's head, causing cement to chip off and dig into his flesh. Ignoring the pain and surprise, he dove to the ground, causing the enemy soldier to have to change the trajectory of his weapon. As he went to shift his aim, however, three bullets slammed violently into his chest. He staggered back, still attempting to raise his aim, attempting to end the life of the man who had just mortally wounded him. But he never had the chance. He only got one more shot off as yet another bullet exited the barrel of Dark's rifle, covering the distance between the two soldiers in milliseconds. The projectile happily embedded itself deep within the cranium of the grey squirrel, effectively causing the back of his head to explode. Brain matter spattered about the wall and hallway behind him, in which he collapsed.

But the uniform was not one of the 97th Platoon. The Squirrel had been wearing a regular pair of bland military fatigues with no insignia. Odd. But the relevance such had to the current situation of the Platooners could be pondered later. Now they had a mission to complete. The rogue 97th Platoon had undoubtedly heard the firefight that had just taken place, and they would not be very pleased about it. The 99th Platoon would have to get to the auditorium and rescue the children before their treasonous, racist counterparts could even think to execute one or all of them.

"Let's move. No need to play it quiet; no need to play it any way but our way."

Pyst had point as the team moved into the school. They moved quickly but cautiously, ready for a 97th ambush should they get bold. And to Pyst's excitement, they did. Two of the 97ers emerged from two different classrooms, assault rifles blaring. Pyst opened up his mini-gun, spraying hot death at the 97ers. One managed to duck back in the classroom, the other wasn't so lucky as a couple dozen bullets tore up his legs and lower body. Pyst purposely aimed low, making sure those bastards would suffer before they finally bled out. The thought of executing him had crossed Pyst's mind, but he held off as the image of what they did to that kid outside flashed in his mind. No, that piece of shit deserved worse, and Pyst was going to make sure he got it as soon as he took out his buddy.

The other 97er was panicking, apparently not expecting the 99th Platoon to have _that_ much fire power. Pyst sprayed the walls, bullets rapidly chipped the 97er's cover away. The 97er tossed an HE grenade out the door. Carrie was all over it, she dashed ahead, scooping up the grenade and tossed it back in the classroom. The 97er expressed his surprise with a "HOLY ----!!!" The soldier dove for cover behind an overturned desk as the grenade went off. He didn't even have time to let his hearing recover from the blast as Carrie had bolted into the class room, combat knife in hand, and eviscerated him before he got a chance to scream in pain.

"That's my girl!" Pyst cheered. "No prisoners! Kill 'em all!!!" he cackled as he charged down the halls.

---------

Group B eventually made it to the school's backyard.

"Those were some nice moves, CG...you're living up to your name" said Mon

"It was luck guys. Maybe I'm watching too much anime or something... that made me do that." said CG while smiling

They entered the little playground for the younger kids, while paying strong attention to the windows. They were extremely cautious after the incidents with two rocket launchers already that day.

"This is way too...too...I forgot the proper word" said a worried CG

"What? Quiet?"

"Yes, that's it! I just can't associate those two words...junior high and quiet"

"What are you going to do when you have kids?" asked Deja

"Dunno...Meribeth has a major in child psychology, maybe she can screw with their minds when they get all wacko"

"Oh...nice"

They continued in their entry. Just as CG passed through the door, he felt as if someone was following them. He turned around, but saw nothing. A flashy memory passed through his head:

_"...the 97th platoon composes of 15 members, each with the same training, skills, and intelligence you and your men have..."_

_"If we have ninjas...why shouldn't they have one...I sure hope not" _

They continued on through the silent corridors.

Oreos heard the gunfire upstairs. His group made their way into the cafeteria, and unlike the rest of their team, they're half had gone in unnoticed.

"Chael, Serena, Deja, Red Storm, I need you to take out security. We'll get around easier when they have no eyes. Make sure **no one** gets in our way when we evacuate the hostages"  
The school was, ironically, monitored by security cameras which were now under enemy control. It was a private school for reds after all.

All of them advanced further in the school. They came to a set of stairs, on going up, the other leading down. They were on ground level already; thus, down led to the basement, security quarters, and up led to the main part of the school. Cheal, Serena, Red Storm and Deja nodded, knowing their responsibility, and headed down.

Oreos, CG, DYM, and Sabine went up one flight. The second story was where the auditorium was located.

"Sabine, I'm trusting you here. Are you a hawk?"

" No, I have never used a Sniper Rifle before." Sabine answered clearly enough but there was a slight tinge of nervousness in her voice.

"Well you're going to learn how today."

Before they separated, Oreos asked Reddy for his Sniper Rifle, then handed it to Sabine.

"I need you to get to the rooftops. Take out all the Snipers. There shouldn't be a whole lot of them now that they know we're Inside. And try to to relax, your first shot must always hit."

Sabine took the Sniper Rifle with shaking paws, and looked once again into Oreos' eyes.

"Don't worry, I have a knack for spotting talent. Go now. We're going to evac soon and I need them taken out."

Sabine nodded and ran up the stairs. Again, a bullet storm echoed through the halls.

Oreos swore, "Fucking hell. This was suppose to be a stealth operation, who started shooting?!"

CG answered calmly "Them."

"We have move fast. Every minute we waste another child will lose their life. The hostages are in the auditorium."

Mon looked up the set of stairs Sabine had taken. " You really think the newbie will make it?"

"Yes."

There was no other option. The Snipers needed to be taken out, as well as Security. It was down to Oreos and two of the finest soldiers. The Medic was needed obviously since they will now reach the hostages, and CG was required because he was more experienced.

The three soldiers headed to the auditorium.

-------  
The team in charge of destroying security reached the basement floor and began making their way through the labyrinthine hallways. After dead ending at numerous supply and janitorial areas, they reached a set of double doors marked Security. Serena went for the door first but it refused to budge. Deja readied her grenade launcher when Chael put his free hand on her shoulder.

"Allow a gentleman to open the door for the ladies. Every one stay behind me." Once the other three got behind him he targeted the door. He fired his laser cannon, releasing a softball sized energy ball that quickly flew dead center into the door. On impact it exploded violently, sending two scorched, misshapen doors flying a few feet into the now open hallway. Just fifteen more feet until the security room and whoever waited inside. The four readied themselves and began down the hallway.

---  
Sabine rushed up the stairs as fast as she could with the sniper rifle strapped over her shoulder. Even with the drumming of bullets coming from below all Sabine could think about was the rooftops.

I must get up there and do this...I must get up there and do this...I must...

She tried her best to no let the weight of her situation hit too hard. But the fact that Oreos had laid down the job for her was enough to make Sabine feel jumpy. Does he really have a skill at seeing talent in people? Or was he expecting too much from the new girl? Sabine quietly prayed for the former as she searched for a small door, some way used to reach the roofs of the school. Turning a corner, Sabine saw the door she was looking for. It was the kind of door maintenance people used for quick access whenever repair was needed. Unfortunately for Sabine a security camera was trained right on the door. She had no way of knowing when the others would take care of security down in the basement and waiting surely wasn't a good idea. She would have to find another way.

The hallway, possibly the whole floor was empty, thanks to the brilliant gunfire show taking place down on the lower floor. Quickly, and in a slightly more relaxed state of mind, she thought about other possibilities.

"The vents usually lead to the roof…" Sabine went for a class room door and found it unlocked. The room was empty so Sabine just walked inside. By the looks of things this class had been in the middle of a lesson. Pencils were still on the desks along with half written notes. The teacher of this class was in the middle of writing about having an essay over the Art of War completed by next Thursday. Sabine's attention turned to the vent up in the ceiling of the room. With some effort she got the grating off and crawled inside. She replaced the grating and made her way down the shaft. The further in she went the more dust tickled up against her nose. The chipmunk lifted her shirt up over her nose and continued. Brushing cautiously by the occasional spider-web and thankful that all of the rooms she came across during her trip were empty.

Sabine knew she was close to her destination when the climb became steeper and fresh air reached her face. Soon she saw another grating and light coming from it. Not too much, because of the cloudy weather, but enough for her to know she had finally come to the end of her short journey.

---  
A male squirrel sat quietly amidst a sea of scared children. He stood and approached a blue-eyed girl, stroking her red furred head gently.  
"Don't worry kiddo."  
The child shook like a leaf. He squat on his haunches, a peculiar look in his eyes.  
"I'm not afraid..." the girl whispered, "I'm not afraid of you."  
At this, he took personal insult. His voice grew hard, and raspy.  
"You should be afraid child - because you, and all of your friends are going to die. You are going to die, and that is it. There's no afterlife - there's no bright light or pearly gates, Heaven or Hell. You have nothing to look forward to, and everything to lose. I will tear out your heart - you..." He struggled to find an appropriate word, and settled for, 'Filth.'

To his friends, Barnes, an honorary Major, was sadistic. To his enemies, he brought vengeful death; cold and drawn out, due to the fact that he had, at least for a moment, been one of them. He stood up straight.  
Barnes' unit was almost eerily similar, at least in technical skills if not race, to the soldiers of the 99th. After the botched 98th debacle in Raccoon City, the 97 had been given second ranking in matters of national security - and Barnes couldn't stand not being in the limelight. Known for his erratically violent behavior during the Tediz Wars, his all-Grey foot soldiers were handpicked for their ability to follow orders. Specifically his.  
'Sure', he thought gazing at his radio, a few dumb rookies had just been sacrificed in honor of the higher cause but... He stopped there, and laughed.  
'Higher cause'. Sometimes he cracked himself up.  
"Cannon-fodder," he said aloud, and his second in command stared, perplexed.

To the men in his unit he was known only by the code-name MI5 had given him in their renown 'Baker's Dozen' - twelve specially trained covert operatives that were to be forever known only by names of popular biscuits and sweets.  
This Squirrel was...'Malteasers'. Over the next ten years, he went rogue, playing both sides of the field, helping eliminate some of the most prolific 00-Baker agents: MnM, Smarties, Dunkin, Mars, Twix, Sour Worms...the list of the twelve operatives, minus himself, was almost complete, till his contractors tried to put a bullet through his head, leaving the task unfinished, and forcing Malteasers to return to 'standard' duty under the then Lt. Barnes. Most of the Baker's Dozen were eliminated...if not all...but one, for sure, was live and kicking.

Oreos, not knowing that he would be meeting up with such an old acquaintance, moved cautiously through the courtyard, hoping against hope that this crazy scheme would work...

- - -

Another barrage of gunfire, screams of pain, and the loud bang of a grenade echoed through the halls, easily penetrating every classroom door nearby. The 'stealth' idea had just gone down the toilet.

"Heh, guess they're comin' this way..." an anxious squirrel whispered to the desk he was using as cover. He glanced for a second back at an easel, which was lying on its side in a corner of the classroom. It was covered with blood and a couple of bullet holes. A trail of blood led from it to a small closet on the side, where he had dragged a corpse to get it out of the way...

_---"All right, class, today we're going to learn about mixing colors together!" an enthusiastic young woman exclaims from in front of a blank easel. It's her first year teaching, and she's a little nervous, but things have gone very well so far this year. "Does everyone have their paintbrush and paints?" From inside their desks, the children all get a brush and a couple of bottles of paint, which they happily hold up above their heads. "All right, then, let's get..." she notices a figure walking through the classroom door. More importantly, she notices the figure is carrying a shotgun and is pointing it straight at her. "Wh-who are you!?" She backs away, knocking over the easel. Some of the children look behind them and see the intruder, but, being kindergartens, have no idea what exactly is going on. _

"Hey!" one of the boys calls to him, "You can't be in school!"

"And why the hell not!?" the stranger turns on the boy, his voice growing angrier. "Are you little red bastards special? Better than us greys somehow? Is that it!?"

"No, 'cause you're a grown-up, silly!" a little girl pipes up.

The teacher can't help but break down and cry. They really do have no idea what's going on... "P-please... " she stammers through tears and collapses to her hands and knees, "just don't hurt them. Th... they don't know any better. Please, d-do... do whatever you want to me, but let them go!"

"Heh! Now there's_ an interesting offer..." the grey squirrel begins to walk over to the teacher until he is standing just two feet in front of her. "But sorry. Orders are orders." _

"Please! PLEASE!!" The teacher begs and begs. "We haven't done anything to you--" She shrieks as he kicks her over, into the easel.

"Huh. Bitch." he aims the barrel down at her chest and blows a hole through it. The deafening blast of the shotgun startles the children, and almost all of them begin to cry uncontrollably. They still don't understand that their teacher has just been killed.

"Shut UP!!" the murderer shouts and fires again at the ground. "All of you, out of the classroom NOW!! Move it!" ---

"Man, it was a pain in the ass gettin those stupid bastards outta here. Little morons wouldn't stop crying.", the squirrel muttered to himself, then looked back to the door. Grenade in hand, he was ready to blow the next sorry idiot who walked in to bits.

click

"I take it that lady back there is _your_ handiwork." Zeta growled into the grey squirrel's ear, pressing his gun lightly on his temple and desperately fighting the urge to pull the trigger. "I thought you guys were supposed to be just as 'well trained' as us."

"WHAT THE-- YOU SON OF A --" the squirrel tried to scream, but a red paw quickly covered his mouth and restrained his arms.

"Just shut up." Zeta ordered him coldly. "Looks like you're a racist _and_ an idiot. Did you even realize there are air vents going into each classroom?" Zeta led him out the door and into the hallway to where the others were keeping watch and checking the other rooms. They noticed Zeta had a hostage.

CG, Oreos and Mon were on course to the auditorium. They left various classrooms in the way, five to be exact. In two of them they found dead teachers lying. They were executed exactly the same way, bullet between the eyes.

"These guys are insane." pointed out CG

"Indeed..." answered Oreos flatly.

"You're starting to talk like Dark you know?"

"Heh heh heh, you're right. It's all this dead innocents that put me that way."

Just as they were going to enter the auditorium, the three of them suddenly felt an urge to turn right to a hallway just before the auditorium doors. They walked through the hallway and discovered that it lead to the nurse's office.

"There's something inside there...right?" said Mon after the stood a while in front of it

"Yes..." answered Oreos

"I'll check it out...you guys go get the hostages" said CG

"...Ok. It's your call" said Oreos

The medic and the 00-agent left, trusting that the Venezuelan would join them in a short while.

_"There has to be something in here, all the three of us felt something strange..."_

---  
"Wake up! Someone's here to save you..." hissed the terrorist to the nurse's ear.

"...mmph" was the only thing heard through the duct tape covering the nurse's mouth

The office was a bit big for a nurse's office, since it was a small classroom before the older kids were changed to a bigger school. There was enough space for three little beds. Since there were a lot of little kids they needed room to keep all them in there. The nurse actually had 2 jobs in 1. She was like the school's therapist in some cases.

"Let's see if this one is skilled" said the black dressed terrorist as he disappeared in the shadows behind a dresser.

CG entered the room and was shocked when he saw the tied down nurse.

"I'm here to get you out." muttered while undoing the rope and looking around for someone hiding with his gun in hand.

The nurse ripped off the duct tape herself and tried to warn him of the ninja that was hiding, but he had already jumped at CG, trying to decapitate him. CG managed to block with his gun (again, a lucky shot).

"Well! This'll be my lucky charm from now on..." said CG. He then turned to face the nurse "Were you going to warn me of him?"

"...yes..."

"Don't turn your back to me!" said the ninja, dashing towards CG again.  
He unsheathed his katana with his left hand and blocked, as he turned, and used the momentum to kick his opponent in the side. The opponent managed to block, so his ribs didn't receive too much damage.

"I guess I underestimated you..." said the ninja

"Yeah...I guess you did"

"Don't move!" said the ninja "Stay here and witness your savior's death"

The nurse stopped in her tracks

"Go sit over there and wait for a second" said CG pointing towards one of the beds

"...accurate. This will take about a second..." said the ninja

Sabine crawled out into air much fresher than that of the vents. She had slipped out the side of one of the big metal vents that stood up on the roof. She looked around her immediate area. There was no one around. Quickly she took the rifle off her shoulder and held it in her hands. She took a deep breath to try and fight down the pressure. Sabine looked around again and noticed how the roof of the school leveled up higher in some areas than others. She was on a middle level. In front of her was a higher level of the roof and behind her was a lower level. From wear she sat behind the vent, Sabine noticed a form standing up on the higher level, facing away from her. He had a rifle in his hand also.

"Well…" Sabine whispered. "This is it." The chipmunk held the rifle up and aimed at her target. The aiming part was simple enough, it was the psychological part that had Sabine stuck. She had never done this before.  
"I have to get him the first time." she thought over and over again. Sabine's hands started to get unsteady and it took every ounce of will power to steady them. "Just relax." She swallowed hard and tried relaxing; she knew what she had to do. Finally her hands stopped shaking, her target had moved but only just a little. She aimed again with steady movements and fired.  
All Sabine saw was a large spray of blood and other parts of the head flying everywhere as the bullet tore the grey squirrel's brain to pieces.

Sabine took a moment to breath again. She had done it. The body no longer stood but lay crumpled and defeated on the rise above her. For a second Sabine had the urge to climb up there and get a closer look at the body but the thought disgusted her a second later. She figured she would get used to seeing the dead up close. But she did not want to get acquainted any sooner than she needed to. Another thought plagued Sabine's mind. What if the one she had killed had not been the only one? The only way to find out, was to go find out.

Sabine found a fixed ladder leading up to the higher parts of the school roof, thankfully a distance away from the soldier she had recently killed. She climbed it but stayed low. After seeing her own work, standing up straight was something she would be sure to avoid until she knew the coast was clear.

After scanning the area with her eyes, she saw nothing. But there were vents on the roofs. How easy would it be to just hide behind those and take a shot without anyone noticing? It was easy for her.

"Just stay calm Sabine, You can do this." She remembered Oreos' words. "I just have to make sure there are no more--Ack!"

Sabine saw nothing , the attack came from behind. Quick and Soundless at that. She hit the hard cement of the roof top with an immense pain radiating from her shoulder, before the Chipmunk could turn or even draw her firearm, she saw the shadow. The newbie had a problem.

---

The body that they came across as they turned a corner was of a large beefy panther. His build and outfit had the makings of a PE teachers. Well, all that muscle didn´t save him from getting his brains shot.

Still, it was the psychological tactic used against the two that shocked them more.

Written in blood on the walls, not too large, were the words

**_If you come any closer, we will kill them all_**

No more than a few moments were spent on the morbid regard of this new measure against the 99th platoon.

´They can see us.´Mon commented. He pointed his finger at a black build that protruded from the ceiling. ´Camera.´

Oreos jerked his steady rifle at the black observer and, pausing to say "Smile for the camera, Mon", shot it off.

Oreos risked radio silence and called a member of the other team in code.  
´Mordecai Mordecai´  
´Ester Ester´ replied WWW  
´Any Fading Round Bound Eye Spy Spot?´ _any friendlies making their way over to the camera control?_  
´Round Bound´ _Confirming _  
´Stride Wide. Witch-Doctor Cookie-kook round bound hear-all.´ _Hurry Up. Medic and Oreos making their way to the Auditorium _  
´Ester´  
´Mordecai´

" Let´s move, Mon" .  
With renewed vigor they trudged to the "hear-all"

- - -

The "security" squad made their way toward the room. They were cautious because whoever was inside knew they were coming. They hugged the walls waiting for their enemy to come out. As if on cue, two greys jumped from the side of the door frame and opened fire. Chael planted the barrel of his cannon onto the ground, using it as cover. Serena and Deja took refuge in a small alcove to the right while Red Storm went to one on the left. After the firing stopped they went into action.

Deja grabbed a fire extinguisher from the wall next to her and lobbed it at the doorway. She shot it and created a cover of foam. Then Serena grabbed one of Deja's sidearm and joined her in firing upon the enemy. As the foam finished settling they saw one squirrel was down. Red Storm burst down the hallway and made a low lunge into the room. He took the knife off his belt and threw it at the firing hand of the other squirrel, disabling him before firing a few rounds into his chest. He removed the knife cleaning it off on the enemy's uniform.

The three joined him shortly after, taking note that they wore regular military uniforms not Platoon. They seemed to still have some kind of ties that they used for extra muscle. The others discussed destroying the equipment before Chael stepped up and began accessing the security cameras. Screens flashed different areas of the school and showed their comrades before Chael got the one he was looking for. He found the auditorium and began to slowly scan the area to gather information. It only went for a few seconds before the feed was lost. He presumed they knew security control was lost because the camera activated.

"Move out." The other three left the room and he took care of the equipment. He pointed his open mechanical palm toward the control console and an object fired out. It was sphere shaped with a cone coming from the bottom. The cone portion embedded itself into the console and Chael left. When he reached his cannon, where the others had waited, he quickly closed his mechanical hand into a fist and the object exploded. He picked up his cannon and they returned to the ground floor to catch up with the others.

Dark dropped to one knee at the end of the corridor, sweeping a room just adjacent to his current position with the barrel of his rifle. Nothing. Well, nothing alive, anyhow. Blood, fused with the brain and skull fragments of an innocent young squirrel who had just begun his teaching job, covered both a large portion of the floor and the wall. Luck had definitely not been on his side. The day he chose to begin his profession happened to be the same day the 97th Platoon decided to go berserk, to go haywire. To kill any races that did not live up to their expectations. In the current case, it was just the Red squirrels. But what next? Panthers? Surely not. Very few people had even the courage to speak to such a race, let alone go to war with them. In any case, the racism, the needless slaughter, was sickening - even to a man who had seen so much of it in his time. Even to a man who had killed other people in the most ridiculously vicious ways possible. He was sickened. He was angered. In ley-man's terms, he was mighty pissed off.

The panther turned away from the room and grit his teeth, about to swallow his rage when Zeta vacated one of the side rooms with a hostage. The look of unfettered malignancy upon the face of the feline slowly - ever so slowly - twisted into a grin unmatchable by the most sadistic beings. Dark traversed the area between he and the hostage in a brisk walk, his hands shaking uncontrollably. Up they came, and they balled into a fist with the lapels of the quivering Grey squirrel in their grasp. He slammed the racist bastard up against the wall and brought him in nice and close. The vicious 99er wanted to look into the eyes of the one type of person he truly despised - the one type of person he could not understand. A racist. A man, or what passed off as a man, who believed that the color of one's fur truly meant something. The thought alone was ludicrous. The man's existence was meaningless, and he was naught but a liability to the lives of others.

_"Your superiority is a fallacy; let me demonstrate.."_

Dark drew back his right hand and launched it forward, his knuckles making solid contact with the jaw of the quivering, despicable squirrel before him, who promptly collapsed to the floor. But he was still conscious, still afraid. Death was upon him, nipping at his heels, and he knew it. Oh, he knew it. As he looked upwards, blood running down his chin, he saw the face of something _he_ could never truly understand - a man with nothing, a man who was unaccepted within society, who fought for that very same society. Those very same people.

_"Now, I know you're not of the 97th Platoon. Do you know how I know that?"_

"I--Y--Sir--"

Dark brought an open hand across the face of the man he was interrogating, showing his disrespect.

_"The question was rhetorical; allow me to provide your simple mind with the answer. You are weak, untrained, and a stain on the world. Those in the 97th Platoon are weak, trained, and a stain on the world. See the difference?"_

"Ye--"

Closed-fisted, to the temple.

_"If you speak again before I tell you to, I'll rip your god damn tongue out! Do you hear me?"_

Silence.

_"Good. Now, I need to know how many of your militia-men are on this floor, how many are in the auditorium, and how many of the 97th are nearby. Now, you may speak."_

"U-Uhh.. T-there are five more men from my unit in the militia on this floor.. A--and.. T-three of those m-men are in the auditorium watching the scu-- I mean, the Reds. I don't know about the 97th.. I'm n-not.. privileged to that information..."

Dark cocked his head to the side, a grin cracking his visage.

_"And with good reason. Thanks."_

There was a flash of silver, and then a spray of crimson. The fleshy throat of the Grey tore so easily under the serrated edge of the combat knife so firmly gripped in the hand of the panther.

_"No prisoners. Every last one of them dies. Now, let's move."_

CLING

The swords clashed as both of the fighters dashed aiming at the left shoulder. The 97er kicked at the 99er's gut, but he managed to stop the blow with his knee. He countered with his own kick to the ninja's side, muay Thai-like.

"You're a bit faster than I thought..." said the ninja

"Thanks...but stop fighting like that, get serious" said CG

"...first time someone says that to-"

The ninja practically vanished and appeared behind CG. He attacked at CG's neck, trying to do a fast kill but he only found air instead.

"You?" said CG while slicing a huge gash on the 97er's back.

"What was that? You can't be faster than me!" yelled the enemy squirrel.

"I'm not faster than you" said CG "Only smarter" he completed while tapping on his temple.

the ninja lunged. "DIE!"

He lunged at CG stabbing at his chest. He was planning for it to get blocked, so that he could surprise him with the extendable claw in his left glove.

"ugh..."

Blood dripped onto the floor.

"how..."

The ninja jumped back, grabbing his left hand. It had a huge cut between the fingers.

"As I said before...I'm smarter than you" said CG while throwing the ninja's sheathed sword at his feet.

When he slashed at the ninja's back, he managed to make the sheath fall off his back. He then picked it up and predicted the trajectory of the attack, sheathing the sword. With the claw, he used his sword while grabbing it downwards, so that he wouldn't get injured.

"I can't believe that someone like you could have done this to me!" growled the ninja.

"Grab the sword and stop whining" said CG, this time with a sterner look

The ninja reluctantly did what he was told to and unsheathed it as he could with his injured hand.

"Try again...maybe this time you can actually hit me"

The ninja dashed towards CG. He waited. Just as the ninja entered CG's range, he moved a bit to the side and dropped a smoke bomb. He planned to surprise CG with his last trick available at the moment, but again, he failed. CG moved forward as the ninja's sword came down to his previous position. He cut the 97er's right arm off with ease.

"How humiliating..." gasped the ninja "Me, beaten by a scum lover!" The pain radiated throughout his body and he screamed.

"You know...I'll give you a honorable death, just because I'm a good guy..."

He stood in front of the kneeling ninja, and opened his gut up. As soon as he fell down, trying to stand the pain, CG stuck his sword in his neck. When he was sure his enemy was dead, CG pulled the sword out and wiped it clean on his fallen adversaries clothes. Then he looked over at the nurse who had seen the whole thing, looking at him in starc terror.

"I'm sorry you had to see this." said CG to the trembling nurse

"It's ok...I'll try to drink it off" She could have fainted right then.

"No...don't do that, because when you drink after that, you'll remember this..."

"You're right"

An awkward pause.

"Here" He handed her the ninja's sidearm "Just in case"

"T-thank you..."

"You're wel-" He grabbed his assault rifle and fired at the cabinet. The doors opened and made a grey corpse fall.

"What's this?" asked the nurse with a jump.

"Your fellow spy" said CG

He threw a near by bottle at the nurse's hand and made her drop the gun. He then approached her and lifted his fist as if he was going to hit her. She closed her eyes and put up her hands, trembling more than ever now.

"Why did you do this?" said CG after putting his fist down

The nurse fell on her knees sobbing.

"I don't know. I was scared. They offered to let me live"

"So, you were planning to let them kill me, or anyone that came through that door, just so that you could stay alive just for a few more seconds"

"No-ye-I don't know! I don't recall exactly how it happened!"

"Give me your arm"

He rolled up the nurse's sleeve, and noticed a little scar. She had been drugged.

"I think the effects wore off already, so you can stay here for a while. After getting the kids, I'll get back here. Ok?" said CG

"Y-yes...thank you"

"No problem, just stay here, out of trouble"

CG left running towards the auditorium, planning to catch up with the guys. The nurse sat down in a small stool and started crying.

Sabine let out a pained yelp as a foot clouted her at the side of her face. She coughed and lay prone for a few seconds. The pain in her shoulder was still ripping at her nerves, but nothing like the drumming in her skull. A voice talked to her.

"I bet you feel proud about taking out one of our lackeys."

Sabine tried to open her eyes but her vision was spasming. When it cleared and stilled, she was staring into black combat boots and that was all she knew. Then she saw knees, an arm, a hand, and a bloody knife being held in the hand. The warm wet feeling in Sabine's left shoulder made sense now.

What seemed like a pleasant face looked down at Sabine, the blade pressed gently against her neck. But Sabine knew that with one false move that blade would soon be embedded there.

"Ah' could have killed you so so easily. But those 99ners are tough. Maybe a hostage from their own will set em straight." she grinned. "I've never seen you before I sure hope they've found enough value in you to care about your life." The soldier of the 97th stood and walked away a few feet, whipped out a small radio.

"Don't you move now!" she flicked the radio on.

"Yeah, you still in the auditorium? Good. I'm up on the roof now and just like I thought we have ourselves a lil sniper." There was a pause. The female squirrel was conversing as if finding a sniper on the roof was girlish, book-club pep-talk. Sabine could not hear who was on the other end.

"It's a good thing I found her, she managed to take out one of our tag-a-longs. But if she had of kept going the way she was, would have had a clear view of an auditorium window." Another pause... The female soldier turned to look at Sabine and gave her a cheerful smile. Sabine almost threw up.

"Maybe she was going to try and get you, I'm not sure...yeah this one's a newbie all right, she was too easy to catch."

Sabine dared to breath, dared to reach down for her gun...

"They ain't stupid, probably already mussed up the security and everything...you can't contact them no more? Fuh, figures. Amatures."

Sabine took the gun out, shakily with her right hand, her left arm just hurt too much to operate. The chipmunk brought it up level to the squirrels back. Still shaking.

"Yeah. I know you can handle it. Over and out." The soldier knew, she turned. But there was no longer a blade but a gun.

BANG!

Sabine recoiled her hand in shock, the gun flew and fell with a clatter several feet away. The 97th squirrel leered at her.

"Didn't Ah' tell you not to move..."

-----  
Oreos and DYM reached the auditorium with little resistance. They were outside the double doors. Oreos pressed his ears on the side. He heard the "terrorists" yelling at the kids to shut up. The children themselves were still crying, but they were mostly whimpers.

Oreos took out his radio once more, and radioed Chael: "Chael, Testa verso la sala"  
(Head towards the auditorium)

Then he directed to the others:  
"Generi un certo rumore, noi hanno bisogno del clearence"  
(Create some noise, we need clearence)

It will be easier to take the auditorium with less 97s in there.

Mon looked at Oreos expectantly. "What's the game plan?"

"Ya know I think we should've gotten blue prints of this school before we came."

Mon lightly shrugged. "Do we ever before for any mission?"

"Let's scan the perimeter. This is the turning point. Check how many exits and entrances are to this auditorium. We need to know-"

The P.A came on; a serious, impenetrable voice filled the halls.

P.A: **99th Platoon... well done. You've gotten in, you ain't gettin' out. But you're really starting to piss me off. No matter. You've taken out four of my men. I will therefore release 8 children to compensate...  
**  
Oreos muttered under his breath...

"Don't... you bastard..."


	5. Chapter 4

The microphone was held in the direction of a huddled bunch of children. Frightened and whimpering, most of them were crying, a few were inquiring into the whereabouts of their mothers. As the tension mounted, Mon held his breath in shock and disbelief.

"_No! no! Mommy!"_ Their screams reverberated through the amplifiers, filling the school with their terror.  
Everyone heard it. Eight gunshots. And then silence. The dreadful realization of the occurrence mingled in the air like frost before settling, who could believe what had just happened.  
Oreos' heartbeat shot up. He punched the wall repeatedly, cursing all the while, until blood stained the surface.

Mon finally exhaled. "Save it for them..."

Oreos pushed back his hair, and held his radio up.  
"Sposti i vostri asini"  
(Move your asses)

- - -

Meanwhile, in the Principals office:

Barnes had seven more rounds in his M9 Pistol. He emptied his rounds into the little girl who was not afraid. Then he reloaded.  
The 97th member, Wrath, viewed the aftermath of the carnage impassively. "Hey Boss, you want me to clean up this mess?"  
Barnes holstered his gun. "There's no point."

Malteasers came to Barnes' side. "When are we stepping up? We've more casualties then they do."  
Their leader grinned. "You know how I like to play the game. Let them think they're winning. It'll be all the sweeter when they lose."  
Wrath growled suddenly, "I just got one request: Give me Pyst. I owe that little sissy one to the face."  
Wrath was just itching for a fight, gripping his MP4 tighter. Barnes always managed to keep him in check though, except on the battlefield. Then he was an unstoppable lunatic.  
The 97th leader radioed his only female member, and his only female sibling.

"Mirage, you've taken care of the sniper yet?" his sister's confident voice came through the receiver. "I have it under control."

" Well we're not being paid by the hour. Get back down here quick".

The three 97s started heading back to the auditorium, where the other seven were. Barnes caught a glimpse of the playground outside the window. He experienced a sudden brief flashback of when he and Sarge were kids. It disappeared just as quick.

- - -

"So I'm, like, on the Internet right?"

"Pyst - not now."

"And I'm wasting my time, Googling...too bored to search for 'guns and ammo', too tired to look through 'free naked celebrity pics'..."

"Seriously - this isn't the right time."

"Anyway, I come onto this freaky 'Growth' thing. Some flash game made by some guy, somewhere. And it's like, totally the best game ever on the In-ter-net. There's this little man, and he does things...and...an egg... Man. So emotionally complex? D' you know what I'm saying Sarge?"

"Look, don't take this the wrong way...but...frankly... I don't care."  
Pyst, in all sincerity, looked hurt. Sarge, irritated, held his shotgun tightly against his hip. After an awkward moment's silence, he mumbled, "Look...I'm sorry. I promise I'll check it out when we finally sort this mess out, but for now..."  
"Mother ------!"

"Look," Sarge said, turning around sharply, "There's no need to be rude..."  
"HIT THE DECK!"  
"What?"  
Carrie, who was following loosely behind the troop, lunged at Sarge, flooring him, as a stream of hot lead rained in the space above him. She landed daintily on her chest, her black locks bouncing invitingly.  
Sarge's throat went dry as sandpaper. The tiniest hint of the strangest thought crossed his mind... The biological-mechanoid that was Carrie was on a different growth schedule compared to the rest of the world. She had originally met Sarge as a young girl, but was now almost a late teenager. In real-time she'd probably be nearing eighteen.  
As Pyst manically tore through the grunt stupid enough to fire on a man totting a mini gun, Sarge and Carrie smiled, awkwardly. She helped him to his feet, and he was reminded, by the throbbing pain in his fingers, how extremely durable Carrie was. He smiled at her as she walked ahead. Turning to Pyst, Sarge found a nine-inch combat knife placed inches beneath his nose.  
"Listen here, and you listen good. I don't care who you are, if I catch you googling at my little girl ever again, I'll shove your balls so far up your ass, that the next time you shit, you'll shit on your balls, d' you got that?" Pyst snarled, his voice sounding like rusted nails dragging across chalk.

Sarge never bat an eye.  
"I have no idea what you're talking about, and if you pull a stunt like that again, I actually WILL shove your balls up your ass, till you've got two nuts where your Adam's apple should be."  
Zeta, Dark and Triple W exchanged a glance that must mean something to someone somewhere.  
Pyst smiled.  
Sarge laughed.  
"I love you man..."  
"I know..."

And it was on this peculiar note, that moments later all hell broke loose.

WWW barely saw what hit him.

The door he had stepped in front of shattered with the force of a small explosion and splintered wood and glass sliced into his arm and side, like a thousand bee stings from a jackhammer. He was thrown back from the air pressure, his back smashing against the opposite wall. He then crumpled with his hands on his knees.

A squad of terrorist militia flowed out of the classroom. Dark was already at work, bringing his sword down on the first through the doorway. Instinctively, he darted away from the opening..

A bullet pierced his trench coat. If he had moved a fraction of a second later, it would have found its way into his chest.

"Doorways! Move!" Sarge yelled. He pumped the shotgun, blasting two of the terrorists coming out of the classroom as he ran to a nearby doorway.

Suddenly remembering the wounded tediz, he swore to himself. _Shit, Triple Dubyas!_

When he turned around to see where the tediz had been, he saw only blood and splintered wood.

- - -

_Eyes. Three. Camera._ Around corner to right. Deja was peeking from behind a wall surveying the entrance to security and relayed with her hands the findings back to Chael, Serena and Red Storm. _Camera. Sweepers. Four-second blind spots._ She timed the sweeps of the first security camera, preparing to enter the hallway, disconnect the first camera, send in Serena for the second camera precisely 1.5 seconds later, disconnect that camera and do the same for the last using Red Storm, with Chael at backup waiting for the signal to open frag and clear the security room, but she stopped. Something was missing. No - some_one_…

_Where's Newbie?_ Deja signaled to Chael.  
_Right here._ He pointed to Serena.  
_Not Serena. Sabine._  
_Sniper mission._  
_Sniper mission? On her own? Are you out of your goddamn mind? She's new and…_ Deja didn't know the hand-sign for innocent so she gave the sign for child.  
_She needs the practice_ Chael replied.  
_Practice another day. This is 97 we are up against. I find her._  
_Security mission? _Chael eyes could have said it all. Deja was abandoning their mission.  
_Good luck with it. I find Sabine. _

Deja took off in the direction they entered from. Her mind was ticking in frustration. How was Sabine supposed to carry out a sniper mission when it's practically her first time holding a weapon? Deja thought. _But more importantly_, she thought _why do I care so much? _

(Second level of school building block, most likely location of Sabine...)

Deja rounded a corner, scanning the area, finger ready on the trigger of her M4. Two doors and a ladder were in front of her. Pick the wrong exit and she could be dead within minutes. Pick the right one and she could still be dead. Luck definitely wasn't with Deja today. The ladder led into a way high into the wall, the doors to an unknown. Deja had a fear of the unknown. She took the ladder.

Deja crawled as silent as possible through the tunnel. She could see out the other end a small, dimly lit room with a circular window. A location Deja would have chosen herself if she was on a sniper mission. At least the newbie had common sense. Two feet from the exit of the tunnel, Deja halted and held her breath. She picked up sound reverberating off the metal walls of the tunnel.

"…information. Tell me where your men are." A cold, calculating, ruthless, demanding voice. It could only be female.

"I'd rather die." Young, slight quiver at the last syllable. Damn it, it was Sabine's. Deja took out a small round pocket mirror. She extended it as far as she could without it being detected and saw Sabine on the floor with a female soldier standing over her, knife in hand ready to cut one of Sabine's fingers off.  
"Death is inevitable, so I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to dismantle you, until I get what I want." There it was again. The voice colder than liquid nitrogen. Deja stepped out from the tunnel. The female was doing too much talking. Time for action.  
The female 99er flung a throwing knife at the Iceberg. It just grazed her cheek and stuck into the wall. The Iceberg stayed firm with her back facing Deja who cracked her knuckles.  
"I suppose you're my counterpart, then? The 99 version of me, a 97?" The Iceberg directed at Deja.  
"I will never compare to a sick murderer like you. Now turn around and face me."  
The Iceberg complied, tapping her hand with the knife at the same time. Keeping up her chatty nature she said, "I've heard about you. You're the Captain's cousin."  
Deja was reaching the peak of her patience. The 99er fearlessly stepped closer to the 97 until their noses were only inches away. The 97 continued talking. "Isn't it strange how alike we are, how much we have in common? You feel it, don't you. You're feeling it right now. The hunger for blood. We've killed for so long, we've forgotten how to live. Now we just survive. Except, my dear, I plan on living. For you, it's time to die."

Deja half-smiled. "There's just one thing you've forgotten."  
The Iceberg raised an eyebrow. "And what was that?"  
Deja leaned in and whispered in her ear, "_I've already died._" And at that, Deja sweeped-kicked the Iceberg. The 97 landed hard on her ass, but, equally as well trained as Deja, rammed her foot into the grey-squirrel's knee joint. Deja reached for a piece of loose timber and batted Iceberg's face with it. Iceberg countered with an offensive blow to Deja's neck and a follow through choke-hold. The oxygen to Deja's brain was being cut off and it felt as if her eyes were going to pop out of her head. The 99er elbowed her opponent in the diaphragm and partially winded her. The Iceberg clutched her ribs and swung a pathetic kick as Deja pulled out her favorite weapon, one she hadn't used for a while. Deja lunged and hip-swung Iceberg to the floor, pinned her with her knee then pulled her head into her lap. Iceberg was panting for breath, Deja was bleeding from her forehead, but that wasn't going to stop her now. With the garrote pulled taught, Deja wrapped it around Icebergs neck and squeezed. Iceberg gasped and spluttered , less and less air coming out each time, until the garrote sunk into flesh, ripped open her jugular until she lay limp in Deja's hands…

- -

After taking care of the security room Deja had run off. He presumed it had something to do with her asking about Sabine. Now seemed like a good time to send out a message that security was taken care of. He grabbed his radio and spoke.

"Yo, yo, yo. This be MC to the squared lettin' every on in the crew know that the narks with the cameras have been silenced. One left the group on other business but the posses still makin' tracks to catch up with somebody. So till we see ya, this be MC of the C sayin' peace." He put the radio away and looked at the others. Red Storm was staring oddly.

"Don't ever say anything like that again." He then continued walking. Serena went past after that just shaking her head. As they started moving again they heard an explosion followed by gunfire. They picked up the pace knowing someone was getting into a fight nearby.

---

One of the soldiers who, by some stroke of utter luck, had survived the onslaught by the 99th Platoon, idiotically charged headfirst in the direction of the lithe panther. The stoic look on the feline's face was usually warning enough to those who opposed him that he was not in the mood to play with his prey; he was not going to give them even the slightest chance. But ignorance pervaded throughout the ranks of these militiamen. They knew not what they were dealing with, what they were fighting against. And so in came the soldier, pulling up his sidearm due to the earlier depletion of his assault rifle. He fired off two rounds as he proceeded on his course of destruction, but neither met their mark. Instead, his weapon was thrown upwards and his aim went wild. Three more rounds slammed into the ceiling, and a deft and harsh knee came upwards, meeting solidly with his gut. The squirrel doubled over in sheer agony, his Glock skittering across the floor. He fell to one knee, at which point Dark threw a perfectly executed right cross. A loud crack resounded throughout the hallway as his fist made contact, effectively shattering a portion of the enemy soldier's skull. It fragmented into his brain, rendering him useless in battle and damn near dead. Blood trickled from his mouth as he collapsed to the ground, convulsing violently.

But the panther was not finished. Oh no, not finished. He leaped over the convulsing opponent to meet yet another squirrel head on. However, in mid air, a bullet barley caught him in the left leg. It skimmed across his flesh, leaving a red streak in its wake. Such a wound was not fatal or serious in any way, but the sheer force with which the bullet had struck its target threw his balance off. As he landed, pain shot through his leg, and his knee gave out. He fell on his back with the racist Grey charging at him, combat knife in hand. A downward stab. A mistake. The feline slammed his left palm into the wrist of his assailant, knocking the attack aside. He then brought an elbow violently upwards, jamming it up under the soldier's nose. He felt the cartilage tear, and the bridge of the nose cracked audibly. The squirrel reared back in pain only to receive even more punishment. A sharp pain pervaded throughout his abdomen, negating the feeling that had plagued his nasal region mere seconds ago. His gaze fell downward to find that his own knife was buried to the hilt within his stomach, with Dark's hand still firmly gripping it. A flash of white - a grin of sorts. Devious. And then a roar of unbearable pain as the weapon was torn from its makeshift sheathe in a manner that could only be described as deeply sadistic. Out seeped the intestines and innards of the militia soldier. He collapsed into his viscera, his eyes blank and dead.

Dark scanned the area. The carnage put him in a violent mood - in a bestial mood. In a rage. A blood lust, almost. He suppressed it as best he could, just waiting for the chance to let loose. And when they found the 97th Platoon, he would truly allow himself to let go. Allow the beast to rise within him.

"I'm coming for you.." Quietly, to nobody in particular.

Sabine kept her eyes half on the fight. And half riveted to the wall she was leaning on. But no matter where she looked Sabine could hear it all. The chipmunk swallowed deeply, she was afraid, and when it was all over she felt guilty. A part of her still refused to tolerate seeing death.

Sabine was still leaning against the wall in a tight huddle when Deja walked over and touched her shoulder, thankfully the good one. "Are you okay?"  
For a short while Sabine said nothing and Deja questioned her again. Quietly Sabine spoke. "Do not worry. I told...her...nothing. I said nothing." Her gaze had found the dead 97ers body.

The chipmunk's body quivered as she rose unsteadily, using the wall for balance. For the most part Sabine was not out of commission. She was just hurt, bruised in a few places, her throbbing left shoulder was caustic and blood stained the back of her shirt. But Sabine gritted her teeth against the beatings, she would live.

A rough sigh escaped her lips and she looked her savior in the face. But she said nothing. There was something in Sabine's eyes. It hovered there, mixed in with the fear and self-doubt. There was still a determination. Deja understood and smiled. "Come on. We better get back."

---

In the growing mass of confusion, Sarge never heard the gunshot, but felt the force of the impact in his right shoulder as it spun him round like a spinning top. Years ago he would have dodged a cheap-shot like that, but with his abilities failing he was now at the mercy of brute force, his mind blank and reeling.  
His blurred vision made out Dark's silhouette attacking the first wave of assailants, and Zeta retreating whilst Pyst and Carrie appeared to Sarge like twisted daemons, cackling and destroying life.  
"Man," he thought, "This is gonna hurt in the morning..."  
Somewhere in the deranged thoughts of a bleeding Sarge, a simple song chanted over and over again...

_"Today's the day the Tediz bears have their picnic..._

"Tediz bears? That ain't right..." His shoulder felt like it was sat on by a fat man eating a hot dog. A brown fuzz was visible in front of him, and it stirred as he moved closer. He reached forward, feeling fluff, and closed his grip, dragging an unconscious Triple W away from the main firefight, where they would hopefully be out of harms way. A steady trail of blood marked their passage, as Sarge's wound continued to bleed freely... He reached for his radio, coughing but one word:  
"Medic..."  
---

"_**If you go out in the woods today…**"_

"Sarge…wake up, Sarge…"

_"**You're sure of a big surprise…**"_

"Rico, rise and shine... Come on, look at me…"

Voices, so many voices…all indistinct…blurred faces…

_"**If you go down to the woods today…**"_

"…up…Get up now…Rico, open your eyes…"

The pain…the pain was unbearable…burnt flesh…torn ligaments…

_"Rico Rodriguez, wake up now, put your uniform on and go to school! Look how late it is, you're not going to make it on time. GET UP NOW!"  
Mum threw the sheets of his bed and picked up the glass of water. Eyes half open, he shielded his face from an impending waterfall.  
Sleepily he said, "Alright, alright, I'm up." The next second, he was smothered by a small squirrel half his age but of equal strength and equal determination. She was squeezing him round the waist and affectionately punched his arm.  
"Hey, sleepy-head." She said, grinning from ear to ear.  
"'Morning, Cuz." He replied, hugging her back.  
"You said you'd teach me kicks today, remember, Rico? Remember? You promised, Rico." Tears welled in her eyes. She pouted for extra spice to her manipulation.  
"My word is my bond, D. This evening after school, I'll teach you everything you need to know about defense." They hugged for a brief moment, then she sprang off the bed and darted into the kitchen. He glowed with a deep sense of pride for his little cousin..._

…Breathing was hard. Why was he so wet? What was the stuff coming out of his shoulder? And the pain…

_"**…You'd better go in disguise…**" _

The first day of army training. He was in a grassy courtyard on a sunlit summers day along with 12 others of around his young age of 16. The sergeant commanded a fall-in. Rico lined up, chest out, arms flat against his sides, ready for anything. He was nervous, eager to make a good impression, but his attention span was waning. The sergeant was giving his annual, fresh platoon lecture…  
"The enemy doesn't care about you. The enemy doesn't respect you. The enemy will kill you, if you let him. The enemy is ruthless. The enemy won't bury our dead. That's what separates us from them."…

…THE PAIN, MAKE IT STOP…

_"No way in Hell, Pyst, did that happen to you". Rico was on a bar stool at the counter of Anthrax's bar sharing stories with his men. Pyst sat to his left, Dark on his right and Oreos, CG, Mon, Flatfeet, Twisted, Ajax, Stealth and WWW also on the table holding beer cups, some more drunk than others, and a content atmosphere settled over the bunch. These were some of the finest men Rico had ever met and worked with. They were loyal, hardened warriors. Rico felt that same glow of pride for these fine soldiers.  
"Cheers men," he said, raising his glass. "To the 99th Platoon. May its fire burn even when all oxygen is long gone.." _

"**For ev'ry bear that ever there was  
Will gather there for certain, because…**"

"_I'm sorry, Sarge, we did the best we could… The wounds went pretty deep. They used her own hunting knife… I have it here for you…"  
"Where is she? I want to see her." Rico's voice was husky. He could hardly breathe, let alone talk.  
The medic's eyes were red, he'd been up all night trying to save his comrade. He stared hard at his C.O., then eventually said, "She's this way."  
Rico looked at his cousin's broken body. Her own blood smeared her clothes, her leg in a funny position, but her face…her expression…so still, so peaceful. He half-expected her to just sit up and say she was joking. But she didn't. Deja…Dana…his little cousin…really was dead. He picked up her paw and put it on his tear-stained cheek. It felt so cold… He stayed up all night, cradling Deja's paw, sobbing over her lifeless body, hoping beyond hope that she would wake…He felt so desolate, so alone…How could he have done this? How could he have let her die? He would have traded places with her if he could…Why, Deja, God? **Why** Deja?... _

"**Today's the day the teddy bears have their picnic**."

"Not today, Rico…Not today…"

A paw was dabbing at his forehead, wiping the sweat off with a damp cloth.

"That's it…Open your eyes. Guys, come over here, he's waking up."

Sarge blinked and groaned. His vision was returning, along with a throbbing pain in his shoulder. He made out three figures looking down on him.

"You alright, Sarge? Still alive?" Pyst knocked on Sarge's skull for a response.  
"Cut it out, soldier." Sarge rasped.  
"Yep. Definitely back to normal."  
Sarge looked around at the room they were contained in. Carrie was standing over behind where Pyst now was, Dark, squirrel smeared, gave a nod to Sarge, and Deja was kneeling next to him, wiping his skin clean of blood.  
"Nice to see you're awake again."  
"Nice to be back. Where are the others?"  
"Mon, Chael, Redstorm and Serena are making their way over now from security, Sabine's been sent to get them, Zeta's making sure the terrorists stay in retreat, even if it is just for now, Triple W's conscious and standing guard outside, Oreos should be reporting any minute with status on his group, and now we're waiting for orders." Deja leant in closer for a more private word. "I've got to admit, you had me worried there for a minute, Rico. You went in and out of consciousness, but when you were conscious, you were muttering things. Strange things. Tediz bears picnic? Thinking of taking a holiday with our furry friends sometime soon?"  
Sarge smiled. He wasn't one to admit his weaknesses, so he replied, "I ain't goin' anywhere, D, not anytime soon, at least." More quietly, staring intently into her eyes, he said, "And I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Not again. I swear on my life."  
Deja looked slightly puzzled. She didn't understand where this was coming from. "Good to know, Cuz. Good to know."

---

-----  
"Christ!"  
the word itself was not very foreign in Mon's mouth, but the way it was spoken just now was. He had sworn.  
He cursed himself, this time, for the misuse of his deity of choice's name and continued driving the threaded needle up and down the shoulder wound, after the iodine.

He and Oreos bolted as soon as the SOS came over the radio, backtracking to the room where they now found themselves. It looked like a lounge of some sort, although it wasn't nearly smart enough to belong to the teachers. Possibly an upper school students lounge.

"I heard that."muttered Sarge silently.  
"Yeah? Well forgive me, pops, for I have sinned. "

It took a second for Mon to realize what he said was blasphemy  
'Jesus' he cursed himself again.  
"...F---!"  
' A little stressed...Reverend?' Rico didn't laugh. It would have hurt to laugh at the moment.

"Yeah, sir, I guess you could say. Hold still"  
Sarge sucked in his breath again and Mon punctured the wound on more time.

"You okay, Rev?"  
"Mostly fine, yeah. Why daya ask?"  
Mon could feel the stares of everyone in the room while he toiled. It was somewhat unnerving.  
"Everything okay with the Man upstairs?"  
"The Big Boss? I guess you could say we're having a bit of a friendly spat."  
"Do tell."  
"Well, nothing serious. This happened before."  
"A spat, ung!" he said while Mon plunged again, this time with a little less care "so bad as that one time when Pyst came round to the ol' Plucker after he lost his wallet?"  
"Hell no! If it were that bad, I'd be a full blown atheist by now"  
"Damn straight."

"Ey ,Sarge" It was Oreos. He spoke through the entrance. 'Some guy here wants to see us. Part of the hired Mob I think. Want's to negotiate."  
"Bring him in" Rico said, without hesitation.

The dissident squirrel was met with the barrels of at least half a dozen guns and more evil looks than he would dare meet. And yet, he still waved the white shirt in his hand that he used as a flag. There was light in the tunnel still, he got this far so surely-

'Dark, have fun.' Rico staccatoed.

It was, finally, not in the infinite black of a gun's barrel that he met his end. But by the infinite lack of compassion dealt by the panther's sword. Impaled, he slid down to the floor and bled even after his heart stopped beating.

"No prisoner, boys and girls. Lets make this count."

---

Sarge's wound had been patched up, Chael, Serena, and Red Storm had already returned. All of the 99ners were together except for--

At the exact moment CG bursts in "WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU GUYS BEEN?!"

CG stepped into the classroom, and saw his teammates stocking up, and some lounging around. Then he noticed Sarge.

" Whoa boss, you O.K ?"

Sarge answered. "Only a flesh wound."

"They killed 8 more."

"Yes... we heard..."

Sarge stood, again taking hold of his position as leader. "Ok soldiers. School's out. No more pencils, no more books, no more teacher's dirty looks, and no more of this 97th Platoon shit. Game plan."

"DYM and I got to the auditorium. They have no patrols so it'll be easy getting in. I couldn't see the inside though, don't know the setting."

Chael was able to provide an answer promptly. " I caught 7 entrances to the auditorium down at security. Two are on the second floor, they lead to the balcony - nosebleed sections. The rest are on the main floor. One's a fire exit, two from the backstage and two entrances beneath the balcony. If we go in the last two, they'll definitely see us from the stage."

Sarge nodded. " Then we'll make use of all of the doors. One of us will take the balcony."

Oreos turned to Sabine."Sabine, feel like sniping again?"  
Deja and Sabine shot Oreos a dirty look.

"Doesn't matter who goes. Take the owls with you." Interrupted Sarge. Deja looked at him curiously.

" Night vision? Why would we need those?"

" After you report the scene, the lights will be cut. One soldier will do that job. The rest of us will move in. Take out all 97s first. Let no red squirrels die." The plan was straight and to the point.

"I'll cover the balcony." Oreos volunteered.

Sabine took off the Sniper Rifle strapped behind her back, and handed it over to Oreos. He attached the night vision scope, and laid his K7 on the teachers desk. It would have been too much to carry.

(And this is the end of chapter 4. Yes its shorter than chapter 3. Sorry about that. But after this moment the mission shifts into another high gear. The fur will really start flying next time. So I thought it best to let this chapter end here. Hope you're enjoying! Please R&R.)


	6. Chapter 5

_And whosoever sheddeth man's blood, then by man his blood be shed._

The lights cut out; the stage curtains fluttered lightly, pushed easily aside by two black-clad figures. How silently they skittered out onto the stage, taking refuge within the infinite darkness created by their comrade. But as the panther neared his victim, his opponent, he noticed a slight shift in the squirrel's weight. How quickly did the Grey spin, the deft unsheathing of his sword resonating within the air. He brought the blade across horizontally, but he felt absolutely no resistance. Thus, he knew he missed. And that miss costed him, for pain shot through his upper body as a fist met solidly with his abdomen. His breath was lost, but his bearings were, fortunately, retained. His eyes had adjusted slightly to the darkness, but they did not truly need to for him to take note of his assailant. The 99er had halted his attack and stood eye-to-eye with the squirrel, his violet irises acting as his sole means of identification. Then his grin. Toothy, devious. Evil. The squirrel matched it.

In came a stab from the Grey, but once again, he found the evasiveness of his opponent to be far too much. He half-expected another blow to the stomach, but such was not what he received. Instead, his knee suddenly collapsed, undoubtedly from the impact of Dark's boot upon his joint. Just as the pain had begun to set in, a harsh elbow met with the side of the squirrel's head, toppling him over, onto his back. His sword clattered to the stage just to his side. He reached for it as a familiar sound pierced his oncoming deliriousness. A scraping noise, rough yet smooth. Shrill and high-pitched. A monotone hum followed soonafter, at which point the squirrel brought his weapon up and across his body, the flat side of the blade resting against the open, up-turned palm of his hand. A sword of similar make and model clashed with his own, sending sparks up into the air, thus illuminating the immediate area, if only momentarily. The panther's face was etched with determination, and he looked poised to end the battle quite quickly. But the soldier from the 97th had other ideas.

Up came the squirrel's boot, planting solidly into Dark's gut. He keeled over slightly, caught a bit unawares. The Grey utilized the moment of down-time to his advantage, knocking away the slightly weakened sword arm of his opponent and flipping over backwards, sending the 99er hurdling through the air. As was the myth, however, he landed on his feet. A full one hundred and eighty degree spin in mid-air landed the angry, determined panther in a crouch, sword in hand. His jaw was set, eyes ablaze, muscles defined, veins pumping. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he moved towards his opponent, who had just nipped up to his feet in a rather fashionable manner. The squirrel grit his teeth, frustrated that his counter had not worked to the extent he had expected it to. He cursed under his breath, afterwards launching headlong into a full-out sprint towards the slowly on-coming 99er. Dark adjusted his own speed, picking it up considerably. His strides lengthened, and he bent low, sword trailing along the stage. The Grey brought an overhead slash downwards, aiming to split the threat before him in two. Surely, the panther could not adjust his approach now. Too late. And he never did.

Dark had felt the attack coming more than he had seen it, despite his innate night vision. He knew he had not the time or solid enough footing to dodge to either side of the incoming blade, and so he merely brought his own around viciously. Steel met steel, and the strength and ferocity of the 99er knocked the blade of the Grey both out of the way and out of his hands. It stuck solidly in the adjacent wall, and the shocked soldier of the 97th was left with a blade to his throat - the blade that left an enormous gash in the flesh. The very same blade that severed two main arteries and caused blood to spew from the enormous wound. The panther slammed his sword into the chest of his deceased opponent after he had finished cutting him a second smile, pinning the Grey to the wall. But upon closer inspection, one could easily tell that the cadaver had a ghastly grin painted upon his face. Stuck that way now. His lifeless gaze was locked onto the ribcage of the panther, out of which jutted the hilt of a combat knife.

Dark tore the blade from his body. Blood spilled out from the wound, running down his tactical vest and his pants. But he was not going to quit. The pain would not defeat him. His comrades could be in need. He applied pressure to the wound with his free hand and, with the knife that left a huge wound in his side, he slinked off into the darkness in search of the children. Perhaps he could evacuate them while the others fought.

CG entered with Dark but he disappeared in his squirmish. As he was walking around to find his opponent he heard someone laughing.

"Kenny Johnson...fancy meeting you here."

"Heh...I figured you were going to be here, Manuel."

A tall grey squirrel emerged out of the shadows. He had black hair that passed his shoulders. He wore shades also. It was like a black haired version of old CG.

"Do you still have the grudge about me getting the nick name?" said the 99er

"I deserved that name more than you, but I'm not worried about that anymore. Because I can kill you and win that nick!" said the 97er

"You can have it if you want it that much, I won't fight for it...but I will fight you because of what you've been doing to these kids."

"Meh...they're just little stepping stones so that I could get to you"

"...Now that was selfish, and now I have an even bigger urge to kick your ass!"

CG lunged at him and threw a circular kick. Manuel dogded easily and got on guard.

"You won't beat me. I mastered kickboxing, American Kempo, Grappling and Karate"

"Then it will be a commercial martial arts against some classics, since I've only practiced Karate-Do and Kendo"

"I'll kick your butt."  
Manuel dashed at him, and threw a circular kick at his side. CG blocked it with his knee and punched his face.

"Oh, and I practiced some Muay Thai also..."

The 97er lunged at him again and tried to hit CG with some quick punches to his face, a was a mix of straight punches, circular, elbows and other moves. CG just parried them all. He grabbed the last elbow hit and twisted his arm, then stepped on him.

"I trained some judo and aikido also...man my memory is fading!" CG backed up a bit and got in guard waiting for Manuel to stand.  
"I was always better than you! Prepare to remember those days Kenny...You'll remember those days you bastard!"

"I already beaten your other styles...what are you going to do know?"

"Swordsplay..." He stepped back a bit and reached for a darkened corner. He got a huge sword out. It was like two times their size.

"Preparate maldito!"

The fighting had begun. But instead of participating Chael found himself in the backstage area. He knew it was nearby but couldn't find it. Then he saw the pedestal. Atop it was an intricate device with two liquid filled containers on the top. He found a chair and sat, staring intensely at the bomb. The timer was set but inactive, a pressure sensitive plate on the bottom, and several mercury switches. He knew it was well made and defusing it wouldn't be easy. He took off his night vision and pulled out a flashlight. After finding two access panels he returned his goggles and set down his flashlight.

Getting a hand-held power screwdriver from a pocket, he loosened the top screws on the larger of the panels. He took a small metal strip and slid it along the tiny opening. It stopped partially along, signifying an internal pressure trigger. He resealed the panel and went to the next. He again tested the panel for traps. When he was certain he removed the panel and peered inside. He found a light sensing diode, rendered useless by the blackout. He snipped its wires and got his flashlight again.

He observed the insides carefully, noting circuit pathways and wire harnesses. He chuckled. _The red one, it's the red one._ He took a yellow one and snipped it. The bomb deactivated and Chael returned his tools to his pocket. He dismantled parts of the bomb, smashing one of the canisters against a wall and tearing out the receiver. He found what frequency it ran on and took out an RF tracker. Some one had built the bomb and someone had the remote for it.

---

Oreos remained an observer to the fighting below. He watched as Dark finished off his target, just as CG started with his. A few of his teammates were dispatching lackies. One of the goons got close to the hostages admist the chaos. He reached out his paw to grab ahold of one of the children, perhaps to use him as a shield.

Despicable.

Oreos pulled the trigger, and shot off the mercenary's paw before it could touch the child. The grey let out a howl of pain, and Oreos silenced him with another bullet.

-Sarge- radio transmit - _We've captured the hill._

And what a show it was. The 99th Platoon on stage opening fire at the audience (lackies hiding behind the seats) giving the auditorium flickers of light, almost enough to cause a seizure. the children were led to the back stage, where DYM and Sarge were.

Pyst and Carrie dove off the stage in front of the front rows, and reloaded as the mercenaries gave their performance.

Chael -_ I've deactivated the bomb, but the remote can still set it off. We have to find it.  
_  
"I think you'd have the best chance Chael, who else on the 97th platoon is a demolitions expert?

At this point, the P.A interrupted the show. Like well-mannered students, every actor stopped their shooting, tip-toeing, and swordplay. Malteaser's voice came on.

Malteaser - **_Sorry for the interruption staff and students, will Oreos please report to the rooftop. Oreos, to the rooftop, thank you.  
_**  
Pyst tossed a grenade into the row of seats, and the loud explosion broke the silence that followed after the message.

Oreos raised an eyebrow. "We've captured the stage, the hostages are safe..." All his targets were below him, so he couldn't see any of them. Therefore, he trusted his teammates could maintain control here. Oreos exited the auditorium and headed for the nearest stairwell.

Andy had just jumped down from the top of the auditorium, to the action below. A lot was going on already, it seemed. This blackout prevented him from seeing much of anything, although through the little light given off by the platoons' various weapons, he could at least tell Dark had finished fighting and was now on his way to evacuate the children, and he saw CG and a few others he couldn't recognize still going at it. He started walking towards Dark, to help him get the children out of this place, but, as he half-expected, someone came in to stand in the way.

"Whoever you are, get out of the way." Zeta said with a straight, assertive tone, and kept walking forward. Of course, subconsciously, he knew that wasn't going to happen, but it didn't really occur to him until a few seconds later.  
Seeing that indeed the figure had not budged, he decided to pause to get a good look. It was an odd-looking guy, maybe two or three inches taller than he, wearing what looked like basic army-style attire; combat vest, camo pants, light boots. He looked quite a bit older than Andy, by at least thirty years, but was noticeably well-defined, and his hair tied back in a pony-tail completed a buff biker kind of look. A brief nearby muzzle flash illuminated him slightly, and for a moment, Andy could make out his face."Let me guess... you want me to fight you?" Zeta asked.

"Andy... It's been a while, huh?" The man began to walk closer to him. Zeta had long since drawn his G36C, and was absentmindedly holding it, but ready to use it should the need arise. "To think we'd meet again _here_, of all places... I bet you _especially_ enjoyed watchin' the little brats outside get their brains blown out." the man sneered.  
No. 'He' wasn't a man. Or a woman. Or a child. _It_ was a despicable monster, not worthy of even the slightest recognition as a sentient being. Almost not even worthy of death.

"... Not particularly."

"Huh. Well..." the walking, talking thing pointed a handgun at Zeta's forehead. "I guess, since you're not in the mood to chat, how'd you like to join your little red buddies in hell!?"

"..."

"What're ya, scared!?"

"... Not anymore." In his mind, Andy almost jumped in surprise. Why did he say that? He'd never seen this guy before...

"What then? Huh!? Come on, don't you wanna fight me too? Kill me maybe? Or is the real world still too much for poor little Andy!?"

Zeta shook his head. "... Not really. Now get out of the way, you're just wasting my time." He pushed the handgun aside, not having really registered the threat in the first place. His mind was already somewhere else entirely. He knew this thing's face. But... how? The thing grew angry, apparently very offended by Zeta brushing him off. "Ooh, look at the big man! So I'm a waste o' _your_ time now, am I!?"

Andy began to feel very uneasy. Every nearby muzzle flash, every tiny moment that he got to look at this thing's terrible face, he felt something coming back to him, something horrible. After a few seconds he was trembling, and he almost dropped his rifle. Sweat poured down his face, and tears began to well up in his eyes.

The monster saw this as fear, and immediately began to pick at it. "Hahahahaha! Aww, look at da wittle ba-aby! HAAhahahahahahaaaa!!" In its arrogant jeering, it had even completely let down its guard. Zeta could have caught it with even the most clumsy, off-handed pull of the trigger. But he wasn't thinking anymore, it was no use. Every instant of that laughter brought him closer... closer to the part of his memory he thought was gone. At last he recognized his assailant.

_"Get back in yer damn room, ya stupid baby!" The palm of a grey paw made contact with a frightened child's red face. The boy bawled irrepressibly, and the grey paw struck him again, knocking him to the ground. _

"S.. s-stop it!" the boy bellowed. "I-I-I.. just... I'm... h-hungry..." he sobbed.

"Oh, is that so? And you think I'm_ not!? For the last time we don't have any more damn food! And if we did _you_ sure as hell wouldn't get any! You're just a big waste o' life. A wimpy little baby, just like all the other damn red squirrels who were too scared to fight in the war like the rest of us. A buncha cowards!" The owner of the grey paw spat on the boy's face, and left the run-down shack. Probably to get drunk again, the boy figured. Or, well... _more_ drunk. Every bit of money that tyrant got from welfare checks, he wasted. Sooner or later he was going to die either by alchohol poisoning or starvation, and the sooner the better, the boy muttered to himself. These frequent outings served the boy well, though, as they gave him a chance to go out and scrounge around or beg for food, and it was quite possibly the only reason he was still alive. Today, however, he was exhausted, and famished though he was, he didn't have the strength to go out and find something to fill his stomach. The boy would spend this evening much as he had spent the past six months; hungry, depressed, and hoping to every supernatural force he could think of the tyrant wouldn't come home any time soon. _

Up until half a year ago, it hadn't been like this at all. The tyrant was normally a very nice person... But he changed. After his wife was killed during a bank robbery, he became extremely depressed. The boy didn't think much of it at first. After all, it was only natural to be sad at the loss of a loved one. But weeks passed, and still he had not left his house. He began to neglect the boy who was under his care, and soon that neglect turned into abuse. Being legally under this man's control, the boy could do nothing but take every beating, every blow to his face and to his dignity, and over time, the condition of his life had been gradually getting worse and worse.

This night, though, would be the last time he would see the fiend. The next morning, three men in suits showed up to the broken shack he called a home, to announce that his uncle, former Lieutenant Daniel Redran, had run out onto the street in a drunken fit, and had been hit by an oncoming trailer. Andy was to remain here until arrangements were made for him to be placed in an orphanage...

Before he realized it, Andy was on the ground, having received a hard boot to the gut from the monster. His rifle was off to the side, slightly out of his reach. It was almost just like ten years ago, but there was one big difference. The statement he had made earlier was true. He _wasn't_ scared of the monster he formerly called his uncle. Not anymore. He rolled off to the side to avoid another kick, and slowly picked himself up, regaining his concentration.

"Hah! What a waste!!" It laughed. "Who ended up adopting a useless kid like you, anyway?"

"No one." Zeta stated blankly after a moment. "I ran away when I turned thirteen."

A hoarse, annoying laugh from the monster ensued. "Figures! I shoulda just let you rot in that crap-hole."

"Well, you were already doing that." Zeta began to reach for the holster on his side. "You don't have any idea how much I want to kill you. You were bad enough before, but now you've lowered yourself to something as stupid as racism. You're not even a person anymore."

"Feh, big words! You really think you can?" It once again pointed its handgun at Andy's head.

"Yep." Zeta pointed his own gun to the monster's head.

Chael followed his tracker and entered a basement doorway. He entered into an area with rows of shelving when he heard a voice.

"Well Whitey, it's been a long time." A squirrel stepped out from one of the shelves. The right side of the squirrels face was marred by small metallic fragments coming a few centimeters out from his fur. "I'll presume you found me because you dismantled one of my bombs. So let's take the next step." He pulled out a remote and pressed the button on it. "I placed twenty bombs on the premises. By the time I finish this statement, you'll have five minutes till they detonate. If all were intact, which I doubt, that would be 15 seconds each to find and deactivate them. You'd better get moving" Chael just smiled and held his tracker in view.

"That appears to be a basic remote. Just hit a button and a signal goes out to activate whatever receives it. I got the frequency from the bomb of yours I found. This will prevent the use of that frequency in a 30 foot radius. If you want to use your remote, you'll have to shut this off." Chael dropped it into one of his pockets. The other squirrel pulled out a gun and pointed it at Chael.

"You're still an arrogant bastard." He opened fire. Chael shielded himself using both his cannon and mechanical arm. When the clip was expended the gun was tossed aside and the squirrel charged at Chael. He dropped his cannon and Chael prepared to dodge the enemy assault. As he closed in the squirrel took a knife from a sheath at his side. He opened with an upward diagonal slash followed by several quick thrusts. With his augmented muscles Chael easily reacted in time. The adversary stepped to the side and tried slashing the right of Chael's stomach open. The attack was met with Chael catching the blade in his mechanical hand and breaking it.

Taking advantage of the close quarters, he grabbed one of the grenades on Chael's bandolier and hopped back. The 'pin', which comprised of the top and a cylinder in the core of the grenade, was pulled and dropped as the squirrel tossed it at Chael and ducked behind one of the shelves. Chael, knowing more about the device than his enemy, picked up the grenade, manipulated a switch on the inside, and picked up the pin, replacing it. He returned the grenade to his bandolier and spoke.

"If you're going to steal something from someone, understand how it works before using it. That was a remote grenade; inside the pin is the detonator."

"Such a weapon doesn't exist." Chael smirked before replying.

"Then you don't know me very well."

---

Oreos slipped away from where the action was, heading towards the roof, determined to be alone. He had reached the bottom of the flight of stairs leading upwards, when he had the sneaky suspicion that Sarge was going to pistol whip him and leave him unconscious. A split second later Sarge smacked Oreos over the head with the butt of his pistol.  
"Damn it!" Oreos barked. "----! Sarge! Why the HELL do you have to do that ALL the time?!"  
Sarge frowned. He obviously wasn't as strong as he used to be.

"That's not what was supposed to happen..."

"And now I've got a headache...do you know what that means?!"

"No."

"It means...I'VE GOT A HEADACHE!"

"Really?"  
Oreos clutched the back of his head and stared at Sarge irritably."I just thought...I don't know. Maybe you needed some company."Oreos paused. His head throbbed.  
"Yeah... 'k. Whatever."

Manuel dashed towards CG, swinging that huge sword trying to land a hit on him. CG managed to dodge some of the attacks and when he tried to counter, he found himself staring at a small katana or kodachi pointing at his face.

"This is getting interesting..." said CG

"Heh heh you're gonna die..." said Manuel as he attacked downwards trying to crush CG with his sword. CG managed to jump to the side with his eyes staring at manuel's kodachi, just in case.

CG kept dodging and parrying manuel's attacks, trying to find a weak point . Manuel was almost a monster, he could swing that huge sword like it was made of plastic or paper or something weird, maybe titanium. Manuel kept slashing at CG destroying the walls and floor.

"Keep still you bastard!"

"Shut up!"

CG tried to get in close again, but he was stopped by Manuel's kodachi yet again. He moved diagonally towards Manuel and tried to tumble him down but Manuel used his elbow and made CG fall. The 97er practically let his huge sword fall on CG.

"DIE!!!"

Resistance.

"What?!"

CG had blocked the attack using his sword The blade slightly cutting into the other.

"How did you do that?!"

"Did you really think that I wouldn't notice that your sword is almost hollow near the center? How could you move a sword like that one handed if it was well made?"

"How did you notice?"

"When you hit me with your elbow, I noticed that you did that move with your right arm when you used your left one...so the sword had to be very light for you to make that spasm."

Manuel stepped back and dropped his sword.

"...You've changed...I remember when we were in training, that you were the most arrogant guy of them all. I used to hate you...but this fight...this fight showed me the real you."

"...Is that a good or a bad thing?"

"Really good thing...when we started this terrorism game, some of us were actually reluctant to do this, including me, but since our leader had a need to fight you guys he made us do this. He even used a weird drug to get some of the militia guys to do it...they may be racists, but they thought twice before starting to kill these kids, it was too evil for us."

"I know about the drug. They used it with the nurse."

"It was surely the ninja. That drug has been used by the top ranked guys in our platoon, since it was the only way we could stand a chance against you guys."

"How come?"

"If you use twice of the recommended amount, you'll beef up your strength and speed. We only had the recommended part, that's why I went back to normal just now, but they...they used almost four times the normal dose!"  
CG's stance went lax. "What-?!"

"Oreos and Sarge should watch out, since both of them are the primary objectives...If they let them get into some kind of berserker state, you can only stop them by cutting their head off, since they won't feel a thing." said Manuel

"...Damn."

"Now I need you to do me a favor" said Manuel

"what?"

"Kill me"

"...No, I won't kill you after you recognized your mistakes."

"You have to kill me...I won't live in peace, and I would like to die in your hands."

"No!"

"Then I'll attack you until you won't have a choice"

He swung towards CG with his kodachi, aiming at his throat. CG easily parried and made him trip.

"I won't kill you!"

The 97er attacked CG yet again, only to find himself staring at the wall before hitting it with his forehead.

"...So?" asked Manuel breathing heavily

"Attack me with all your strength, and I'll do the same. If I don't kill you, you'll dissappear and never come back..."

Manuel nodded "...Deal."

Manuel got in guard, but was heavily impressed after seeing the posture that CG adopted.

_I can't believe it! He looks like a real warrior. If all of the 99ers are like this, there's no way we could even beat them...Kenny, you really deserve that nickname  
_  
Both of them started the attack at the same time. Manuel was too slow to even see CG's attack. He felt CG's sword cutting through his flesh. He then fell on his knees.

"Thank you...Cool Guy"

Blood poured out from the deep wound upon the side of the panther as he staggered down from the stage and forced himself in the general direction of the hostages. The pain that shot through his body was less of a factor in his deliriousness than the profuse blood loss. His vision blurred momentarily, and his legs felt weak. Tired, drained, he braced himself against one of the bullet-rented seats within the auditorium, barely saving himself from collapsing to the ground. Dark was annoyed with his show of weakness, angered by the fact that, although he had survived, his 97th counterpart had seemingly gotten the best of him. He grit his teeth, shaking his head violently to clear his vision, if even only for a few moments. _The children.._ He pushed forward. _The objective._ Closer. Closer, still, until he was a mere foot or so away from the small red squirrels. He twisted his lips into as kind of a smile as he possibly could, and he knelt low.

_"We have to get out of here, kids. The battle isn't over just yet."_

With that, he began to usher them out of the auditorium and into the hallways, afterwards unholstering his Beretta. The children fell in line behind him without even a word from their savior, and they followed closely as the soldier swept each and every hallway. Things were looking good, and the children had begun to get a bit ancy. They knew they were not far from the entrance to the building, and so they knew that salvation was not far. That is, if they even understood the concept of salvation. More or less, the children were thinking about seeing their parents, their families. About living, surviving through this horrid nightmare. But as the group happened upon the building's entrance, Dark spotted two remaining militiamen. They fumbled for their rifles and, just as they pulled up to fire, found themselves riddled with holes. Unfortunately, as the pain set into the mind of one of the soldiers, he gripped the trigger instinctively. The vast majority of the shots went wide - all of them, actually. Well, all except one. For that one lucky shot tore through the thigh of the panther and sent him to the ground, shreds of flesh and muscle tissues falling to the linoleum in a mix with the crimson liquid that flowed forth.

The children stared on in horror as their savior collapsed, their shoulders bobbing up and down with sorrow. But up again came the soldier, despite the pain wracking his body. He grunted in exertion as he literally pushed himself up off of the floor, attempting to stand just on one leg. He lost his balance, having very little control over his tattered muscle, and was ready to take the fall when his motion stopped. He looked about, quite curious as to what had prevented him from face-planting, when he noticed the children all gathered around him, arms outstretched, pushing him back upwards. He smiled slightly, genuinely. They all held onto him as they headed out of the school's front gate, onto the main road just beyond the courtyard. He covered the children's eyes as they passed the red squirrel who had been tied to the flag pole and executed, and he led them towards the overturned humvee. They all circled around and sat behind the underside of the armored vehicle, enabling them to be safe from any enemy fire coming from the school. Dark painfully pulled himself atop the humvee and sat on the damaged door. He leaned down inside for a moment, grabbing a spare M4 that hung tediously from the rearview mirror. After a quick check of the clip, he readied the weapon and stared off towards the school.

After a long moment, the 99er removed from his uppermost pouch a cigarette, doused in blood. But the tip seemed dry enough, so he easily swiped his metallic lighter from another pocket upon his tactical vest, flipped open the lid, and set the cancer stick ablaze. Smoke billowed from his nostrils as he replaced the lighter back into his pocket. Dark leaned back a bit, propping himself up on his elbow and leaning his weapon upon his shoulder. He listened to the whispers of the children, whispers of the Platoon. Whispers of the rescue. Of their families. Of how they admired the soldiers who fought on their behalf as heroes. Too bad the rest of the world could not see what these children could. Too bad, indeed. Perhaps the innocent mind truly is the most intelligent mind. He shrugged, grinning slightly. Innocence was beyond his reach.

_And when I'm gone, just carry on. Don't mourn; rejoice  
Everytime you hear the sound of my voice, just know that  
I'm lookin' down on you smilin', and I didn't feel a thing,  
So baby don't feel no pain, just smile back._  
---

Oreos and Sarge were walking up the stairwell towards the roof. The pain in the back of Oreos' skull stopped throbbing, but it was still there. He looked at Sarge who was in front of him, irritated only by the fact that Sarge was a slow walker.

"You know he did ask me to come up alone."

" What's he gonna do?"

"Probably kill the kids that he brought with him."

" Hm, true. So what's the plan?"

"The usual. We'll make it up as we go along. Give me a few minutes with him alone, to see what he's up to."

" He's going to tell you to drop your weapon or else the kid will die. After you do, he'll shoot you." Sarge stated matter of factly.

"No. He won't do that. Even if though he's a traitor, he still has his honour. Double-0's do not fight like that, it's not our... style. You bring a gun with you?"

Sarge patted his firearms "Got my pistol and my magnum. One clip, one barrel."

"Hey Sarge, why'd you come along? Didn't trust Malteasers... or me?"

"To make sure you don't die on me."

"Ha. Very touching... but I also know old men need company."

WHAM!

Oreos now had two batches of pain unwrapped on his head. They reached the top, and were in front of the single door. Sarge held out his paw.  
"It's been an honour."

"What-the-hell... are you saying?"

Sarge shrugged." Just in case. You never know which mission's your last..."

Oreos took Sarge's paw, and gave a hardy pawshake.

"It sure as hell ain't this one, and we'll shake on that."

Malteaser gazed over the horizon at the edge of the roof. It was around 3:00pm (School dismissal time); he could tell by the mob in front of the school. There were police surrounding the area holding off all the angry, grieved, and worried parents. There were reporters, journalists, camera crews also, getting the latest scoop on tonight's, maybe the decade's, big story. There were no SWAT teams, no snipers on any other rooftops, no negotiators; the 99th platoon had been sent in, and they were enough.

One thing was wrong though. There were grey squirrels in the mob too, protesting and demanding the release of the children alongside the reds. This was not expected. Malteaser could sense the disappointment from Barnes when they found out. Their plan backfired. This whole incident brought the two races back together, rather then completely divide them.

It seems the greater good really is what matters. The agent sighed. " Oh well."

Barnes declared the mission over. The primary objectives were completed, but the purpose had failed. Barnes ordered to not harm the remaining children, and kill any surviving mercenaries afterwards. With the 99th platoon, the order was to eliminate as many of them as they could, so each 97 chose their own target.It had been more then five years since he locked horns with Oreos, the distinctive graduate from Double-0 Academy, the top agent from Mi6 earning top ranks and honours, but threw that all away to join the 99th Platoon. He lost to Oreos 5 years ago.

"Sorry to keep you waiting"

Malteasers turned around. There he was, not as his enemy, but his rival. Malteasers reached behind him, and unholstered his pistol. He threw it over the edge. Concertedly, Oreos took out his pistol, and tossed it aside. The 97 then yelled out:

" Hey Rico! You can come out. Barnes is waiting here too."

Oreos looked around, and sure enough, Barnes was behind him, on the opposite side of the roof with his arms crossed in his military outfit.

Sarge stepped out onto the rooftop, chuckled, and headed towards Barnes.

Oreos walked over to the edge, keeping a distance from Malteasers. He could hear the screaming, sobbing, and chaos below. People screaming that the children were innocent, this and that. There was even some vulgar language. But one good thing; the Red and the Greys were in a riot, but they weren't fighting each other.

Looks like the 97th failed.

"Well, I guess it's safe to say we win." said Oreos confidently.

Malteasers sneered. "But the game isn't over yet."

---

Back inside the school various members of the 99th and 97th were still locked in battle. There were still some loose ends to be tied.

"I'm a 97th member. I have access to the same military hardware as you. That can't do as you say."

"My people have a lot of ingenuity. There are many things we use that others only dream of."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I am not the one you know as Chael. I'm one of a vast number of clones. I've been given select memories from Chael's, artificially aged, and trained for my specific field. As for who you are and why you know my forefather, I have no idea."

'Then allow me to give you the reason you, your maker, and every other one of you forsaken white freaks are going to die. It started in training. Me and Chael learned about explosives together. We both happened to excel at it."

Several Years Earlier

Within a barracks cafeteria, Chael sat drawing plans on a paper. Around him sat other soldiers conversing and eating. One of them, carrying on more loudly than the others, was Chael's rival. He looked several years younger and didn't have metal protrusions in his face. He spoke of disarming bombs in a pompous and unsophisticated manner.

"Then you just snip the wire and it's disarmed. A simple task." Chael looked up shaking his head and spoke.

"A bomb is never simple. It's something to respect, else it will turn on you and destroy you."

"Shut the hell up, Whitey. No one wants to hear what you have to say. You shouldn't even have been allowed into the army and waste the time of people like us."

"I'm just saying that just cause you've seen bombs defused in movies doesn't mean you can."

"That's it you fu…" He got up to attack Chael but the others around stopped him. "You and me in the testing chamber midnight. You bring your work, I'll bring mine and we'll see whose better." He left the cafeteria and Chael returned to his work. Hours later they meet in the testing area, a chamber with various area separated by blast proof glass. They both entered a chamber and prepared. The first bomb was set and Chael began. He quickly removed the outer plate and looked over the inner workings. He snipped a wire and the bomb deactivated. He cleared the area and prepared his opponents bomb.

"As I said, simple." Chael activated the bomb and stepped away. As the other squirrel began, Chael left the chamber, locking it behind him. The panel on the bomb was removed and the squirrel a brick. Inside were all red wires, three times what was necessary for it to work. Besides that, thee was also a timer hat began to count down from a minute a few seconds after the panel was removed. He turned to he chamber door and tried to leave.

"Disarming and doing so under pressure are two different things. You better hurry in 45 seconds it'll blow."

"It's armed!?"

"Wouldn't be a bomb if it wasn't. I'll be a nice guy though and give you a hint. The red one, it's the rd one." The squirrel turned back around. Unable to do anything, he watched the timer as it counted down in slow motion. Once it hit zero a low power blast sent shrapnel from the casing in all directions. He tried to cover his face but the squirrel could only cover half before he was hit.

He turned to Chael. Fragments of metal were sticking out of his arm and face. He grabbed a piece coming from his cheek and screamed in pain before shock started to set in. Chael hit an alarm to call the on grounds medical team and left the room.

"They removed everything from my arm but due to nerve damage couldn't get them from my face. Over the years I've slowly worn as close to the skin as possible. After that I, Franz Poppe, swore to destroy Chael. That's the only reason I agreed to this. Greys and reds are all equal to me; it's the ghostly freaks like you that piss me off. And since there are more of you I'll get to prolong my fun."

"I'm sorry too disappoint you, but we're not an easy group to defeat." The remark enraged Franz as he once again opened a melee assault on Chael.

Pyst and Carrie stood dead center in the auditorium. Back to back, weapons out and covering 270 degrees on both sides. Pyst gripped his mini-gun in his left hand, using his weapon's strap to keep his arm from tiring out. In his right, his shiny new .44 was getting a test run. Carrie had a similar strategy, with her P-90 in her right and a "borrowed" M-4 in her left. They had the entire auditorium covered, finishing off the remaining milita members with carefully aimed bursts. Carrie had perfected the art of one-handed reloading and suffered next to no down time between magazines. Pyst was having trouble keeping up to her pace. His mini-gun's ammo belt was getting shorter and shorter. And reloading a revolver with just your right hand and your teeth required more dexterity than Pyst thought. Carrie ejected the magazines from her assault rifles.

"All clear!" she called.

Pyst emptied the .44's cylinder into the last miltia member, grinning as his body exploding into a giant mess.

"Clear!" Pyst said, returning the .44 to it's holster and his mini-gun back to both hands. He pulled a cigar from his pocket, and gave a thumbs up to his commrades. "We came, we saw, WE ROCKED THE FUCKIN' BOAT BABY!!!" Pyst and Carrie made their way across the carnage to meet up with the other 99ers.

"Where'd Sarge go?" Pyst asked while searching for a match for his cigar

"Hell if I know," CG said, "Him and Oreos dissapeared a while ago."

"Where's Darky?" Carrie asked.

"I saw him slip out with the kids," CG replied, "We should hook up with him."

"Good idea," Pyst said, striking a match, "Once we confirm the kids are safe, I aim to sweep this hell hole and kill any-"

"DOWN!!!" Carrie screamed. Pyst and CG didn't argue, hitting the dirt on reflex. A barrage of bullets sprayed just above their heads. Pyst rolled to his back, brining his mini-gun up and returning fire at the assailant. He barely caught a glimpse of a trench coat wearing squirrel dart away as he opened fire.

"Somebodies got a death wish..." Pyst grinned, spitting out his cigar. "CG! Go on ahead and meet up with Dark. This Asshole's mine!!"

Pyst sprang to his feet, and chased after the assailant. Carrie jumped to her feet and chased after adopted father.

"Wait for me!!!" She called.

A/N: Another chapter is up! Somewhat short I know, but I think it's best that chapter 6 start off with an explosive battle. And like I said before things would start to get hot and it has! But don't be afraid, Please R&R!


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